You Don't Know My Heart
by CinderellaAtTheBall
Summary: 50 (mostly) drabbles featuring 50 different pairings. Let's do this! 1. Parvati/Daphne - 2. Seamus/Dean - 3. Tonks/Angelina - 4. Neville/Luna - 5. George/Angelina - 6. Charlie/Draco - 7. Arthur/Narcissa - 8. Luna/George - 9. Percy/Oliver - 10. Harry/Luna - 11. Oliver/Katie - 12. Kingsley/Rosmerta - 13. Ginny/Harry - 14. Luna/Percy - 15. Padma/Dean - 16. Fred/Hermione
1. ParvatiDaphne

**These Lies of Mine**

_May 2nd, 1999_

"Read my fortune."

Daphne eyes Parvati over the rim of her teacup. "Come again?"

"Read my fortune," Parvati repeats, tossing her plait over her shoulder. Daphne sets her cup down gently.

"Surely you don't believe in that nonsense, Parvati," she says, arching a single eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Divination was my favorite subject." Parvati stares back at the former Slytherin as though daring her to argue.

Daphne starts to say something, then thinks better of it. She doesn't want to fight. Not today.

She sighs, and Parvati grins.

"You're going to say yes, aren't you?"

"Yes, but only because I know you won't leave me alone otherwise."

Parvati holds out her teacup with a blinding smile, and Daphne allows their fingers to brush as she takes it.

Peering down, she sees several soggy clumps of tea leaves that have taken the shape of a bat, an ant, and what appears to be a flying bird. She racks her brain; if she's remembering correctly, none of those symbols are good. She frowns, turning the cup this way and that, but she can't see any other shapes.

She can feel Parvati staring at her, so she flashes the other girl a quick smile and clears her throat.

"I see an acorn-"

"Continued health," Parvati interrupts with a nod.

"-a...butterfly, yes, which means…" Daphne looks to the other girl for clarity.

"Happiness and success."

"Naturally. And lastly," Daphne pauses for dramatic effect, "a small heart."

"Love," Parvati breathes, and the blissful look on her face is worth every lie Daphne just told her.

Daphne nods, her throat tight. "Love," she echoes, leaning over to press her lips against Parvati's.

Her slender fingers tip the cup upside-down just before she captures the other girl's mouth with her own.

* * *

Word count: 303

_A/N: Rather proud of this one, but let me know your thoughts! I'm always looking to improve my drabbles._

_(Also, you may be thinking, "Why does she need ANOTHER collection of drabbles written for challenges and such?" And the answer to that is: because this whole collection is for a challenge too. :P)_


	2. DeanSeamus

_Written for Piñata Club (Hogwarts) and the 100 Quotes of Life Challenge (1. "I'm so proud of you.")_

_Warnings: Slash (Dean/Seamus) and language._

* * *

**my heart's a little unsure**

Seamus lay in his bed, hands clenched into fists at his side. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had just overheard. Harry wanted Dean to replace Katie on the Quidditch team. Not him - _Dean_. His - well, whatever the other boy was. It was almost alarming how jealous he felt, how much the envy was burning him up inside.

Seamus heard a soft knock on the dormitory door. Neville, probably, come to pick up something he had forgotten that morning. The poor sod was always forgetting _something_.

"You can come in, Neville!" he called.

"Er, it's not Neville."

Seamus sat up quickly and stared at Dean, who was loitering in the doorway, through narrowed eyes. He didn't want to deal with Dean right now, and the sooner the other boy left him alone, the better.

"What do you want, Thomas?"

Dean seemed to take this question as approval to come in and did so, hands in his pockets, his eyes looking everywhere but at Seamus.

Seamus felt his impatience grow.

"Well?" he bit out.

Dean's chocolate-brown eyes locked onto his, and Seamus felt his fists loosen in spite of himself.

"Listen, mate," Dean began tentatively. Seamus snorted.

"I'd say we're a lot more than mates, and I don't really care that Harry asked you to play in the next match," he retorted, folding his arms.

"Your tone would beg to differ," Dean replied lightly, but his eyes were pleading with Seamus to not be upset with him. "Come on, Seamus, Harry's just-"

"If you say anything other than 'a rotten Captain,' you'll be sleeping in your own bed tonight," Seamus snapped. If Dean was going to take Harry's side, he obviously didn't give a damn about Seamus at all.

Dean rocked back on his heels, looking miserable. "I'm sorry, Seamus." He bit his lip and tugged on a strand of coarse, dark hair. "I wish it had been you."

"Yeah, well, so do I," was Seamus' bitter reply.

He watched as Dean crossed to the bed and sat next to him. He could feel the heat emanating from the other boy and shifted uncomfortably.

The two sat in silence for a few long minutes, not looking at each other. Seamus wondered what Dean was thinking about. He wondered whether the other boy even realized how much pain he was inflicting.

"Maybe you could help train me up a bit before my first practice?" Dean asked at last. Apparently he _wasn't_ thinking about how he was affecting Seamus. That somehow hurt more than Dean being chosen as Chaser over him.

"Do I look like a masochist to you?" Seamus hissed, looking straight ahead.

Dean had the audacity to laugh at that.

"I don't know if you meant that as an insult to me or not, but I'm going to pretend you didn't."

Seamus' hands had balled up again. Dean was acting like this was all a fucking _joke. _"Not everything is about you, you prat."

"No, of course not, but I-"

"Did you once stop to think about how this made _me_ feel? I'm your-"

Seamus cut himself off abruptly. He had almost said "boyfriend," but he had no idea if that's how Dean saw him.

"You're my what?" Dean said curiously.

Seamus could have kicked himself. Instead, he stood and quickly moved away from the other boy's keen gaze.

"Friend," he ground out. "I'm your friend."

"Seamus." Dean's voice sounded so uncharacteristically stern that Seamus turned around to look at him. "You are so much more to me than that."

Seamus gazed into his roommates' eyes and saw sincerity there. And something else...something that he couldn't identify.

"I'm sorry," Dean said again. He fiddled with the sheet next to him for a moment, clearly steeling himself to say something. "I could go to Harry, ask him to pick you instead?"

Seamus shook his head. "No. You earned that spot fair and square. I don't want to be put on the team out of pity." He meant it, too. If Dean was the better flyer, so be it. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"But if it's hurting you... that's the last thing I want." Dean was now twisting the bedsheet with his fingers, but his eyes were still on Seamus.

Seamus' eyes softened a little, and he took a few steps back towards Dean. "Do you...do you really mean that?"

"Of course," Dean whispered. He was gripping the sheet so hard that Seamus could see his knuckles turn white.

Seamus suddenly felt the clouds of jealousy lift from his mind, and he was able to think much more clearly. _He_ was being a prat, resenting Dean for something that Dean had worked hard to earn. He didn't want Quidditch to come between the two of them. What he had with Dean was special, even if Dean didn't think so. Quidditch didn't matter to him as much as Dean did. Quidditch would never even come _close_.

The corners of Seamus' mouth turned up slightly as he came to this realization. "I never want to hurt you either," he whispered back. "And I... I'm so proud of you, Dean. Really."

Dean grinned, and Seamus couldn't help but admire how his eyes lit up. He leaned down and kissed him, hoping Dean would reward him with another heart-stopping smile.

Dean did, and Seamus suddenly forgot why he had been so peeved in the first place. All he could think of was tangling his hands in Dean's hair and pressing his body as close to Dean's as he possibly could. The other boy tasted like oranges, and Seamus couldn't get enough of him.

When they finally came up for air, Dean gasped, "Would you want to make things official between us? Go on a proper date with me?"

"I'd love that," Seamus breathed. "I'd love to be your...boyfriend."

Dean took his hand. "You already were in all but name."

Seamus chuckled and squeezed Dean's hand. "I suppose we have Harry to thank for this? Making us confront our relationship?"

"Hell no," Dean laughed. "Harry gets enough credit, let's keep this for ourselves."

* * *

Word count: 1,023

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Haven't really written Dean and Seamus (as characters) before, but I think they have an interesting dynamic. Let me know your thoughts! _


	3. TonksAngelina

_Written for the Pairing the Character challenge on HPFC: Tonks/Angelina._

_Further prompts and author's note to follow._

* * *

**A Silver Lining**

"Blimey, you're Angelina Johnson, aren't you?"

The words have left Tonks' mouth before she has a chance to stop herself. Her face and hair both turn bright scarlet, and in her haste to turn away, she nearly knocks over the umbrella stand in the entryway to Number 12, Grimmauld Place...again. She doesn't, though, and she thanks Merlin for small miracles.

"Wait. I didn't get your name."

Angelina's gentle voice stops Tonks dead in her tracks, and she slowly turns back around. She has to crane her neck slightly to look up at the other witch, but she doesn't mind. She would do anything to keep looking into those deep brown eyes she's always admired from afar.

"Tonks," she blurts out at last. "Nymphadora Tonks, really, but I prefer Tonks." Her gaze falls to the broomstick in Angelina's hands. She thinks she recognizes the latest Firebolt model, and she eyes it appreciatively. Angelina notices.

"Do you play?" Angelina asks, shifting her broomstick between her hands like she has some pent up energy she needs to let out.

Tonks' eyes widen and she takes a step back. "What, Quidditch? No, no. _Merlin_, no. I cause enough damage with both feet firmly on the ground." She laughs nervously and runs her fingers through her still-red hair.

Angelina gives her a lopsided grin, and Tonks' heart beats a little faster. "Fair enough. Fancy giving me a tour, then? This is my first time at headquarters."

"Of-of course." Tonks is flustered now, and her hair is rapidly changing to a deep violet color.

"I like your hair," Angelina remarks, looking sideways at Tonks.

Tonks tugs at a strand and wonders at this gorgeous, famous Quidditch player talking to her like _she's_ the interesting one. "Thanks."

"It's so cool that you can change it," Angelina whispers, stretching her hands towards Tonks, who automatically steps away. Angelina grimaces. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay, I just... I'm used to people making fun of me for it. At Hogwarts, kids used to try and pull my hair."

Angelina looks so stricken that Tonks feels compelled to change the subject as she leads the way through the salient rooms of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Despite being several years older, and a Hufflepuff to Angelina's Gryffindor, Tonks finds herself enjoying Angelina's company. When the tour concludes, she asks about Angelina's next match, and the Quidditch star invites her to the next home game with a wink and a smile.

Tonks' hair and face immediately become red again. "I'd like that," she mumbles. "I want to spend more time with you."

"It's a date, then, Tonks," Angelina declares, slinging an arm around her.

Word travels fast; soon everyone in the Order seems to know about Tonks' date. She withstands the teasing, however, knowing it's all in good fun. For the first time in a long time, people are focusing on something other than her clumsiness or Metamorphmagus abilities, and she feels like she's found a silver lining in fighting this war.

* * *

Word count: 502 (excluding notes and title)

**Fortnightly: Skate or**** Die **\- (color): violet

**Writing Club:** Showtime - The Play (color): red

_A/N: I actually first wrote about these two in my story "Surprises," and I loved them so much I picked to write about them again! _


	4. LunaNeville

_Inspired by "I Can Hear the Bells," from Hairspray. _

_Other prompts and author's note to follow._

* * *

**I Can Hear the Bells**

Neville thinks Ginny and Harry's wedding is a lovely affair, though not quite as lovely as the girl - woman, really - who sits beside him, clad in a dress the color of a golden sun.

"I can hear the bells," Luna whispers, and Neville looks sideways at her.

"Oh?"

"Yes," she breathes, smoothing out her skirt in a rather absent-minded way. "Don't you hear them chime, Neville?"

In truth, he does not, but he is used to her flights of fancy by now. He simply shakes his head and smiles.

"They're keeping time with my heartbeat," Luna says dreamily. "Incredible!"

Suddenly, she clamps her hands over her ears, causing Neville to look at her in alarm.

"What's wrong?"

"My ears. They're ringing now, quite loudly." She says this calmly, as though she is discussing the weather, or what to eat for dinner. Neville's forehead wrinkles.

"From the...bells?"

Luna nods vigorously, still covering her ears. Neville is torn; he wants to comfort her, but how can he, when he can't hear the source of her pain?

He settles for patting her hand awkwardly, afraid anything more would seem too intimate. "I'm sure it'll clear up soon, Luna."

Suddenly, the musicians strike up the wedding march and Luna lets out a gasp so loud that a few nearby guests turn to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Neville asks, unsure if he interpreted Luna's intake correctly.

"The bells," she says. "They've stopped ringing."

He almost laughs at how disappointed she sounds, but doesn't. "That's good, right?"

She merely shrugs. "Perhaps."

* * *

At the reception, Neville watches Luna sway to the music. When he approaches her, she beams and curtsies.

"Have you heard those bells again, Luna?" he asks, searching her face for any signs of discomfort.

"Oh, no, but thank you for asking!" She twirls around almost gracefully, her dress billowing, then continues, "Is something on your mind, Neville? You seem unsettled."

He can't help but chuckle. "Have you met me, Luna? I'm always unsettled."

"Maybe you need to let loose a little, then," she says thoughtfully. "Come on, just let the music guide you." She resumes her swaying.

With a deep breath, Neville says, "Actually, I was hoping-that is, I thought maybe-er, do you want to dance with me, Luna?"

Luna looks positively delighted. "No one's ever asked me before. I'd quite like that, thank you, Neville."

Thoughts of the Yule Ball enter Neville's head and he grimaces at the public humiliation he has just promised himself.

"I'm, er, not much of a dancer, though," he says hastily. "You're probably better off on your own."

He makes a hasty retreat for the drinks table, hoping to drown his cowardice in alcohol, only to find that Luna has followed him.

"Neville Longbottom, what do you think you're doing?"

Neville nearly drops his newly acquired drink. Luna doesn't often use a sharp tone - indeed, she has never used it with him, as far as he can remember - but when she does, he knows she's serious.

"I'm getting a drink?" he says, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

"You can't just ask someone to dance with you and then walk away. That's not very polite."

"Sorry," he mumbles. How is it that he killed Voldemort's evil snake but doesn't have the guts to follow through on a dance?

"It's just one dance," she says, her voice softer now.

Neville takes a few gulps of his drink. "Cheers, Luna. Let's do this, then."

He grabs her hand and leads her back into the fray of dancing couples, letting the alcohol give him some semblance of confidence.

They're the least graceful couple on the dance floor; Neville steps on Luna's feet numerous times and she doesn't seem to have any idea how to dance with another person, but Neville doesn't care. He's having fun with a woman he's admired since his school days, and he suddenly feels like asking her out should be way less stressful than asking her to dance was.

"Luna," he says, leaning towards her. "Do you-would you maybe want to...go out with me sometime?"

The grey eyes he has spent far too much time appreciating widen in shock, or maybe surprise. "Go out with you? Like on a date?"

Neville blushes and nods, his throat growing dry as he waits for her response. He grows worried when she stares off into the distance with a vacant look.

"The bells are telling me that's a good idea. I'd love to, Neville," Luna says at last, and the smile she bestows upon him stays with him for days to come.

* * *

Word count: 769

**Fortnightly Challenges:** MUA - Happy Hour: Cheers

**Yearly Challenges****:**

**Insane Prompt Challenge #550 (song): **I Can Hear the Bells, Hairspray

**365 Words: **273\. Intimate

_A/N: Back at it with more Luna/Neville fluff! Check out my one-shots "Kissing Luna Lovegood" and "Helping Luna Lovegood" for more where that came from. :)_


	5. GeorgeAngelina

_Warning: suggestion of sexual activity as well as strong language. Rating is probably closer to M than T. _

**i'm not the one you want**

George realizes somewhere between trailing kisses down Angelina's neck and pulling his own pants off that this is not what he wants. A mutual love of Quidditch is not enough to justify what they're about to do, especially when they're both still grieving.

"Stop," he pants, and she stills her movements above him. "We can't do this."

She gazes down at him, breasts heaving. "Why not? Am I suddenly not attractive enough for you?"

"Merlin, Angie, _no._"

She continues as though she didn't even hear him. "Because you sure as hell didn't have a problem tearing off my clothes-"

"Angie," George says beseechingly. He feels exposed, and not just because he's naked. "It's not you, it's-"

"George Weasley, if you're going to feed me that 'It's not you, it's me' _bull_shit, then don't even bother finishing that sentence." Angelina rolls off of him to stare up at the ceiling. George doesn't point out that she didn't _let _him finish.

"But it really _isn't_ you," George pleads. "I mean, _fuck_, Angie, you're gorgeous as hell, you're sweeter than a sugar quill, you're..."

He trails off, struggling to find the right combination of words to placate her, to fix this.

He might as well be a rogue Bludger, destroying everything he touches.

"Well?" Angelina asks, her voice bitter and unrecognizable. "Are you going to finish _that_ sentence? No one's stopping you this time."

"Don't be like that, Angie, please." It comes out as a croak.

"How am I supposed to act, then, George?" she demands. "You don't want to have sex with me, so where the hell does that leave us?"

"I don't know," George admits quietly. Angelina lets out a harsh laugh.

"You don't know. Well, I'd say this puts us at a bit of an impasse, doesn't it?" She swings herself off the bed and leans over to grab a carton of cigarettes from the bedside table. "I'm going for a smoke."

George sits up, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't."

"And I wish you would fuck me, but we can't all get what we want," Angelina snaps before pulling on her dressing gown and stalking out of the bedroom.

If George is a Bludger then she is a Quaffle, tough and straightforward and focused on a singular goal.

"I can't be who you want me to be," he whispers to her retreating back. The rest of his thought goes unsaid: _I am not my brother._

* * *

Word count: 405

**200 Different Pairings Challenge:** 25\. George/Angelina

**Are You Crazy Enough to Do It Challenge:** 720\. (random prompt): I can't be who you want me to be.

**The Golden Snitch - The Nautical Ship Challenge:** 4\. Angelina Johnson and George Weasley - S.S. Bludger and Quaffle

**Yearly Challenges:**

**Insane Prompt Challenge #579** (item): dressing gown

**365 Words:** 66\. bedroom

_A/N: this is one of my favorite drabbles, I think, even if it is a little...unhappy. _


	6. CharlieDraco

**Draco Meets Fred**

It takes four weeks for Draco to notice the cat.

"Charles," he says stiffly, striding into the living room with the air of someone who is extremely miffed, "why is there a _cat_ in your flat?"

Charlie blinks and runs a hand through his wild locks. "Uhhh... he lives here?"

Draco crosses his arms. "Since when?" he demands, then freezes. "Wait, it's a _he_?"

"Since April 15th, if we're being technical," Charlie answers with a smirk, enjoying the blatantly shocked look on Draco's face. "And yes, _he_ is. His name is Fred."

He had found the little calico cat hiding under a bench in Diagon Alley. The cat had been terrified of him at first, but Charlie managed to coax him out with some tuna. The poor thing had been so skinny that his bones were showing, and he was quite skittish, but he had trusted Charlie enough to bring him home. With a little food and attention, he had started to bulk right up.

"Fred?" Draco asks at last. "Like your brother? You named the cat...after your brother?"

Charlie shrugs, leaning back against the cushions of the big, squashy couch. "I dunno. It just suits him. He's as mischievous as my brother was, though, let me tell you."

There is a brief pause, and Charlie thinks the discussion is over, but then-

"Charlie," Draco sighs. He perches on the edge of the sofa and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I am not a cat person."

Charlie leans over and wraps his burly arms around Draco's slender frame. "I know," he whispers into his lover's ear, feeling him shiver ever so slightly, "but I couldn't leave him. He needed me."

Draco huffs, schooling his features into a pout that Charlie finds adorable. "That's all very well, but I did not agree to sharing you with a _cat._"

"He's very independent, so no sharing necessary. Besides, he'll grow on you, trust me." Charlie kisses Draco briefly, then settles back against the couch. He is certain that the blonde-haired man will, in time, grow to be as fond of Fred as he is.

Fred himself emerges from Charlie's bedroom and sniffs Draco tentatively. Draco makes a sort of quiet hissing noise, and Fred gives him a wide berth, opting instead to settle into Charlie's lap. The glare Draco sends the cat is so malicious that Charlie is surprised Fred doesn't spontaneously combust.

"Jealous?" he asks lightly, petting Fred's head. He grins widely Draco, who looks murderous.

"No," Draco says, his jaw clenched. He grabs a _Daily Prophet_ from the coffee table and disappears behind it. Charlie chuckles.

"I know what you're doing, Draco."

"Don't flatter yourself," comes Draco's voice from behind the newspaper.

Charlie reaches over and plucks the paper out of Draco's hands. Fred remains in his lap, purring, despite the movement. "Stop hiding. Can we talk about this, please?"

"I believe we just did, and you made it very clear that you're keeping the fleabag," Draco says petulantly, scooting out of Charlie's reach.

"He's not a fleabag," Charlie protests. "He's cuddly and sweet, rather like you when you're not being a pain in the arse."

Draco sniffs. "I resent that, _Charles._"

"Well, you never were one to take a compliment," Charlie snorts. "Anyway, you're right. Fred is staying, whether you like it or not."

"Fine," Draco harrumphs. After a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut as though in pain and thrusts his hand in the direction of Charlie's lap.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asks, laughing.

"I'm letting it - _him_ \- sniff me. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Charlie nods, surprised. He didn't think Draco knew how to act around cats, having assumed that Lucius and Narcissa did not allow him to have any pets growing up.

Fred eyes Draco's hand, bringing his nose up to it hesitantly. Charlie holds his breath, hoping the cat doesn't decide to bite out of fear.

"Careful," he murmurs. To his relief, Fred rubs his head against the proffered hand, purring loudly. "I think he likes you."

"Great," Draco mutters, but he doesn't look as annoyed as his tone suggests. He slowly moves his hand so that he is awkwardly stroking the animal, then looks up at Charlie. "He's not entirely unpleasant, I suppose."

"See? You just had to give him a chance," Charlie says, grinning triumphantly.

"Alright, alright," Draco grumbles. "You can stop rubbing it in now."

Charlie's smile turns mischievous. "Never."

* * *

Word count: 742


	7. ArthurNarcissa

**Irreplaceable (When Love Isn't Enough)**

Arthur knows it's her the moment she turns up at his wedding. He's standing across from his bride-to-be, about to recite his vows, when his eyes catch a glimpse of pale blonde hair.

And his heart stops.

Because she can't be here. If anyone saw her, if anyone knew who she was or why she was here...

Arthur goes through the motions, trying to project a confidence he does not feel. He pledges eternal love and says "I do" and even kisses Molly in what he would consider a convincing fashion, but the moment the cheers die down and the well-wishers begin to converge, he slips away.

He finds her outside the church, under a small flowering tree. She has used some kind of charm to alter her facial features, but he would recognize those blue eyes and blonde hair anywhere. Merlin knows he spent enough time staring at them during stolen moments at Hogwarts.

"Narcissa." It's been so long since he's said her name. It feels foreign on his tongue. Perhaps it should. He gave up so much for her, and she couldn't do the same for him.

"Arthur." She doesn't look at him, not really. Her eyes are fixed on a spot somewhere just beyond him.

"You shouldn't be here. If Molly recognizes you-"

"She won't." Narcissa's tone is bitter, and Arthur doesn't like how it sounds. She's far too beautiful to sound so bitter. But he knows he can't think like that, not anymore.

"I think you should go." It takes all of his willpower, all of his determination, and still his voice comes out shaky.

She raises an eyebrow. "Really, Arthur, is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"You made your choice," he whispers harshly, glancing briefly at her wedding ring. "Now let me make mine."

He moves to walk away, to close the book on that chapter of his life, but as with all things, she has to get the last word in.

"You'll regret this. I certainly did," she says. Arthur turns to look at her, tears pricking his eyes.

"Good day, Mrs. Malfoy." He strides back into the church without looking back. A piece of him shatters inside as he does so and he knows, he _knows_, Molly will never be able to fix it.

* * *

Word count: 384

_A/N: Inspired by the lovely Elizabeth (MoonytheMarauder1), who wrote this pairing beautifully in her collection "A Diamond in the Rough." :)_


	8. LunaGeorge

_Written for the 200 Different Pairings Challenge, George/Luna. A pairing I had never considered but enjoyed writing. _

* * *

**let me in (i'll stand by you)**

Luna hummed and twirled around the dance floor, her bright yellow robes swishing as she did so. Soon, her eyes were closed and she was smiling blissfully, letting the music inside her head guide her. George walked over and smiled fondly at her.

At some point, she became aware of his presence and her eyes flew open. "George!" she beamed.

"Having fun?" the redhead asked.

"Ever so much fun," Luna said dreamily. "And if I dance fast enough, the Wonky Borabs can't get me."

"We can't have that," George agreed, and Luna smiled beatifically at him.

"You are far more understanding than people give you credit for, George Weasley."

He flushed slightly. A fascinating reaction, she decided. It made his hair look less vividly red because it had to compete with his facial coloring.

"Two questions," he said. "How'd you know it was me and not Fred?"

"That's easy," Luna laughed, the sound bubbling out of her. "Your voice is the tiniest bit deeper and your eyes are about a shade darker, too. What's the second question?"

George looked rather dumbfounded, but he recovered quickly. "Would you care to dance?"

They spent the rest of Bill and Fleur's wedding talking and laughing and whirling about, two souls feeding off each other's joy and love of life.

...

"Luna!" George whispered, his face pale. "I was so worried—did they hurt you?" He hugged her to him tightly. She was so close she could feel his heartbeat against her own chest.

"No, no, I'm fine," she replied, rubbing his back reassuringly. "Mr. Ollivander was a wonderful companion, exactly the sort of person you would want to be trapped in a musty old cellar with."

George laughed weakly and shook his head. "You _would_ say that."

"Is that a bad thing?" Luna tilted her head, confused.

"It's just one of the many things that makes you _you_," he said, kissing her cheek. "Just like that eye-watering dress you're wearing. Who else but you would dare to wear something so bold?"

She looked down at her electric blue dress. It was such a cheerful color. That was why she had picked it out.

"Do you like it?" she asked. She hoped that he did.

"Yes, I do," George told her.

"See?" Luna smiled. "You get me."

...

At Fred's funeral, Luna joined the others in raising her wand to the sky. Tears streamed down her face as she turned to George, who was wearing the most heartbroken expression she had ever seen on a human being.

"George," she whispered, taking his hand, "how are you feeling?"

He looked at her, his blue eyes rimmed with red, and sniffed. "Like I might never be whole again."

Luna nodded. "I suspected as much. It's okay not to feel okay, you know. People might try and tell you otherwise, but they're wrong."

"You lost your mum," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Do you still feel any pain over her death?"

Luna thought for a moment.

"The pain doesn't go away," she told him honestly. "You just make room for it."

George's face crumpled and the tears began to fall. She held him as he wept for his twin, and tried her very hardest to keep his heart from splintering into a million little pieces. She wasn't sure that her love alone would be sufficient in mending the cracks, but as long as he wanted her there, she would remain by his side, loving him.

* * *

Word count: 576


	9. PercyOliver

**Brotherly Love**

"Perce? Talk to me, please," Oliver begged.

Percy closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear his roommate—for that was all that Oliver was to him now—use that nickname. He didn't want him to act so...familiar. Not after what he did.

"I can't, Oliver." With that hoarse whisper, he made to stride from the room. Unfortunately for him, Oliver's reflexes, honed by years of Quidditch playing, were too quick. The other boy grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

"Please, Percy."

Percy fixed his gaze onto the scarlet and gold carpet. It was safer than looking into the other boy's brown eyes. "What is there to say? You really hurt me, Oliver. That's all there is to it."

He thought it was a bit dramatic to say that Oliver had broken his heart—even though he had—so he didn't.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Oliver said, and Percy flinched at the tortured note in his voice. "You—you have to believe me, Percy, I never meant for anything to happen with Davies. He came on to me—"

"And the fact that you were naked in the changing room showers with him, that was all his doing, was it?" Percy snapped. "Do you take me for an idiot, Wood?"

"Of course not." Oliver sank down onto his four-poster bed and looked at Percy with such despair that Percy couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. "I fully admit my part in—in what happened, but I—"

The sound of the door opening cut him off.

"Heya, Perce," Fred said brightly into the silence, "d'you reckon George and I could..."

Percy watched as his younger brother took in the tense atmosphere and frowned. "What's going on in here?" he asked, looking from Percy to Oliver and back again.

"Nothing," Percy and Oliver said at the same time.

Fred smirked slightly. "I don't think so. See, when you cover things up as much as I do, you kind of know when people are lying." He turned his attention to his Quidditch captain. "Oliver?"

"Ask your brother," Oliver said quietly. Percy tamped down the urge to make a biting remark about him taking responsibility for his actions.

"I would," Fred said, "but Percy's not going to give anything away. He has experience being interrogated by me."

Oliver stood hastily. "Interrogated? Look here, Fred, there's no need for that!"

Percy harrumphed.

"Funny," Fred said, raising an eyebrow, "Percy seems to think that there is."

Percy watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as Oliver tried to sputter his way out of the mess he had made.

"I—your brother—"

"Did you hurt him?" Fred asked sharply, an unexpectedly ugly look on his face. Percy was surprised at how quickly his younger brother had put the pieces together, but then again, Fred was quite intelligent in ways Percy couldn't understand. "Don't lie to me, Oliver, if you hurt him—"

"He cheated." Percy said it so softly he wasn't sure that Fred had heard him at first. Oliver grimaced, but Percy was done pitying him. He was done being everyone's doormat; first at home, and then at school. He deserved to be treated with respect, and not just because he wore a special badge. Louder, he said again, "He cheated."

Fred sent such an icy glare in Oliver's direction that Percy was surprised the older boy didn't shrink away. "I'd offer to take care of him but I'm sure you'd rather handle it yourself."

Percy thought about it for a moment. Oliver looked pleadingly at him, no doubt imagining the pranks Fred—and George—had in store for him, but Percy ignored him. He wouldn't show Oliver any courtesy if Oliver couldn't be bothered to do the same for him.

"You know what, Fred? Go for it."

Percy knew he would probably regret saying that later, but the mixture of surprise and delight on Fred's face was worth it. Percy felt a sudden rush of affection for his prankster brother. He gave Fred a lot of grief for breaking the rules, but his heart was in the right place. He just hoped Fred didn't break _too _many rules as a result of this.

* * *

Word count: 696

_A/N: I had fun exploring the dynamic between Percy and Fred in this one! _


	10. LunaHarry

**Beach Birthday**

Luna dug her bare toes into the sand and sighed happily. Suddenly, her vision went dark as someone put their hands over her eyes. She laughed. It wasn't hard to figure out who was behind her—she and Harry were the only ones there.

"Happy birthday, Luna," he whispered, removing his hands and slowly turning her around.

Her eyes widened and she let out a delighted gasp. Harry had covered a patch of sand with a large purple blanket. Bright, lime green streamers and sunny yellow balloons were suspended above it, while a cheery blue bucket crammed with a plethora of wildflowers and a picnic basket sat on top of it. It was as though he had decorated in a frenzy—the effect was rather chaotic, but it was also so perfectly _her_.

Her gaze drifted to the sand just below where the blanket sat. In it, in his endearingly untidy scrawl, Harry had written, "Happy birthday, Luna! Love, Harry." He had used a twig and a small stone to make the exclamation point. She smiled at that.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, watching her closely.

"I love it," she said happily. Careful not to disturb his writing or step on any sharp rocks, she ran towards the blanket and plopped herself down. From here, she could see a large stretch of beach, all deserted in the February weather. It was eerie, yet beautiful.

Harry sat down next to her and shivered slightly. "Bit chilly, isn't it?"

"I suppose." Luna hadn't really noticed the cold. She was too busy enjoying the sensations that came with being on a beach—feeling the sand beneath her feet, listening to the waves crash upon the shore. It brought her a sort of peace she didn't experience often enough.

She looked over at Harry and saw that his teeth were chattering. "Oh! Here." She quickly conjured a thick, red blanket and draped it gently around his shoulders. "That should warm you up."

He smiled gratefully at her. "That's wonderful, Luna, thank you." He gestured to the picnic basket. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat, certainly," she replied. "This is so lovely, Harry. I can't believe you went to all this trouble."

"It was no trouble at all, I assure you," he said softly. He unpacked the basket and showed her all of the food and drink he had brought, including two flasks of pumpkin juice, a staple from their Hogwarts days that he knew she still liked. She was always so thrilled when he remembered little details like that.

They ate their way through the meal in relative silence, only asking the other about work or friends occasionally. Finally, they had both eaten their fill, and Luna decided to stretch out on the blanket and stare up at the clear winter sky. Harry joined her a moment later, offering his chest as a pillow. She snuggled up next to him and smiled.

"I think I see a mushroom in the clouds," she said a few minutes later.

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and squinted. "I don't see a mushroom."

"It's right there, see?" She tried to point it out to him. He laughed.

"Oh, that. I guess it does look like a mushroom. What do you think that is?" He pointed to a cloud a little to the left of where they were lying.

She tilted her head, considering. "I'd say it looks like a rabbit. There are its ears, and that little poofy bit there is its tail." Harry agreed.

They spent the next quarter of an hour pointing out shapes before falling asleep in each other's arms.

When they awoke, they found that the wind, which had been a slight breeze earlier, had picked up in strength, and dark clouds loomed overhead.

"Looks like a storm is on it's way," Harry said, jumping up. "I'm sorry, love. We should probably pack up."

"It's okay," Luna reassured him, getting to her feet as well. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and inhaled deeply.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm trying to commit this to memory," she murmured. "All of it—the blanket, the flowers, the waves, the clouds, but most of all, you."

Harry dropped a kiss on her temple. "As much as I'd love to keep standing here, it's going to start raining soon."

Luna let him pack everything with magic—there was still no one around to see, as far as they could tell—but she insisted on leaving the bucket.

"In case someone forgets theirs in a few months," she said, slipping her shoes back on.

Harry put his arm around her. "That's my Luna, always thinking of others. The world needs more people like you."

"The world is already full of people like me," Luna said, smiling. "Sometimes we just don't notice them right away."

Harry nodded and held out his arm. They Disapparated just as the first raindrops began to fall.

* * *

Word count: 823


	11. OliverKatie

_Ages have been fudged a bit (I think). Katie is 15 in this and Oliver is 17. _

* * *

**Asexuality**

"I think our first time should be tonight," Katie casually mentioned to Oliver. She had stayed after Quidditch practice one evening under the guise of helping him put away the ball crate. In reality, she wanted to let him know she was ready to go further...a lot further.

Her boyfriend almost dropped his end of the crate. "What?"

"You know," Katie shrugged, "it's been five months, I thought—"

Oliver let go of the handle and crossed his arms. The side of the box thudded painfully against Katie's leg, and she released her grip on it as well, causing it to crash to the ground. Oliver ignored this to ask, "Thought what, Katie? That I'd be gagging for it?"

"Well, I-" Katie massaged her leg as she struggled to craft her reply. "_Aren't_ you?"

"Not really," Oliver admitted.

Katie's eyes widened. How could he not be interested in shagging her? Alicia had told her that all guys cared about was shagging!

It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps _she_ was the reason he wasn't interested.

"Is there someone else, then?" she asked, her voice trembling. She stared down at the faded leather box they had been carrying, willing herself not to cry.

Oliver blinked. "What? No, of course not."

"Then why won't you have sex with me?" Katie demanded.

He was lying. He had to be. What other explanation was there? Unless...

"You're gay, then?" Surely that was it. And if he _was_ gay she could deal with that, couldn't she?

"Jesus, Katie, _no_." Oliver let out a huff and ran a hand through his hair. "I just have no interest in having sex at all, okay? With anyone."

"Oh," Katie said. Not interested in sex? Was that even possible? She had never heard Alicia talk about anything like that before.

As if he had read her mind, Oliver said, "I talked to Percy—my roommate, you know—about it. He, erm, he's very knowledgeable, and he said—he said I might be asexual."

"Asexual?" Katie tried to make sense of the word, to no avail. "What does that mean?"

"It means basically what I said," Oliver explained. "I don't have any interest in sex."

Katie thought for a moment. "What about kissing?" They had mostly given each other modest pecks on the lips; Oliver usually shut down any attempts at deepening kisses. She had assumed that he just didn't want to get carried away, but now she wondered if there was another reason for that, too.

"Kissing is okay," Oliver said quickly. "Erm, I prefer not to use tongues, though."

So, he didn't want to shag her _and_ he didn't want to snog her? Katie felt suddenly deflated. As if he could sense this, Oliver reached out and took her hand.

"Look, I know it's not ideal," he said softly. "I know you were probably hoping that I'd...you know. So I completely understand if you don't—don't want to keep seeing each other." He stood awkwardly for a moment, then started to drag the crate away.

Katie watched him leave. Thoughts were flitting through her head so quickly that she could hardly settle on one for more than a few seconds. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to press pause on them.

The main thing was, did she want to keep dating Oliver now that she knew what she did? She didn't want to break up with him over the fact that he didn't want to have sex or kiss her with his tongue, and yet...she couldn't deny that she wanted him in a more intimate way. No matter how she looked at it, it felt like a lose-lose situation. Either she broke up with a boy that she truly cared for—as much as she felt that she could at fifteen years of age—or she remained with him and suffered from pent-up sexual frustration. If Alicia was anything to go by, that was not a fun experience.

She sighed and ran after Oliver. He was just coming out of Madam Hooch's office, and he had a wary expression on his face when he saw her.

"Listen, Oliver," she said, a bit out of breath. "I...I don't want to break up with you. If this is who you are, then I can accept that."

Oliver was shaking his head. "I don't want you to feel like I'm holding you back."

"You're not."

"Yes, I am," he insisted.

"Oh my God, you can be _so_ stubborn." Katie folded her arms and set her chin. "I'm not breaking up with you, Oliver. Accept it."

"And you think _I'm_ the stubborn one," Oliver muttered.

Katie glared at him. "I'm not letting you ruin this—ruin _us_. We're a _team_. And you know what teams do? We stick together." She was quoting Oliver's latest pep talk now, and she could see the corners of his mouth begin to twitch in recognition. Finally, he burst out laughing, and Katie joined in.

"Touché, Katie. Touché," he said at last. He looked at her, his expression and tone serious once more as he added, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Absolutely," she replied, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I just don't want you to regret—"

"Come _on_, Oliver, if we don't get going, all the good seats in the common room will be taken."

She turned and started to walk up to the castle, hoping he would see that nothing had changed between them. And really, nothing had. If she was being honest, she was a bit relieved to not be having sex—she had mostly mentioned it because she felt it was expected of her. She was still young and figuring things out. Sure, a part of her _did _want Oliver, but a bigger part of her wanted him to be happy, and if not having sex made him happy, so be it.

Oliver fell into step with her moments later. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and she squeezed back. "Thank you," was all he said, but he didn't need to say anything more. She understood.

* * *

Word count: 1,017

_A/N: I'll be honest, I don't know how realistic this is in terms of Katie being okay with Oliver's asexuality at a "young" age, but I liked the idea of her not making sex a defining thing in their relationship, especially since she kind of felt pressured into it in the first place. Also, I really tried to represent asexuality properly here, but if you take issue with it, please let me know. I don't want to offend anyone or spread misinformation. _


	12. KingsleyRosmerta

_For the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum. (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 90. Kingsley Shacklebolt.)_

* * *

**Five More Minutes**

The morning light began to filter through the gauzy curtains, reflecting off of Kinsgley's bald head. Rosmerta looked over at him and smiled. The man looked so peaceful when he was asleep, so carefree and unencumbered by stress. It was always nice to see him that way.

A short while later, still under her watchful gaze, he stirred. Rosmerta shifted closer, letting her blonde curls tickle his face. She could feel him grin into her hair.

"Good morning," he rumbled in that deep voice she loved so much.

"Good morning, love," she whispered back, tilting her head upwards to catch his lips in a brief kiss. "Sleep well?"

"Don't I always when I'm here with you?"

Rosmerta toyed with the buttons on his navy blue nightshirt, her face slightly flushed. "Yes, I suppose you do."

Kingsley stretched, letting out a small groan as he did so. "I should go."

"Already?" Rosmerta was disappointed, but she tried not to let on. He would feel guilty, she knew, and he had enough to worry about at the Ministry.

He stroked her hair with a gentleness that still surprised her. The man was an Auror, after all, the toughest of the tough. Yet when he touched her, it was as though she was made of glass and he didn't want her to break. "How about five more minutes?"

"I'll take it," she said, and snuggled closer. He held her to his chest, and she could feel it rise and fall with every breath. It was so soothing, snuggling with him. She wished they could do it more often, but between the odd hours they both worked, it was hard to expect any sort of predictability.

All too soon, the five minutes were up, and Rosmerta sighed. "I guess we'd both better get up."

As Kingsley sat up and began to pull on a pair of socks, she leaned over and kissed him again. He stopped what he was doing and ran his fingers through her hair for a moment.

"I wish I didn't have to go," he said softly, cupping her chin in his hand. "I would happily stay here forever."

She found herself smiling at him again. "I would let you."

* * *

Word count: 370


	13. GinnyHarry

_For the Album Drabble Challenge on HPFC and the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 15. Ginny Weasley)._

* * *

**Superman**

"You don't have to be Superman, you know, Harry," Ginny said to him one morning.

Harry nearly choked on his coffee. "Did you just reference a Muggle superhero?"

"I did," Ginny said, cutting her toast into tiny squares, "but that's hardly the point. You work too hard, trying to live up to your 'savior' title and be a good husband, and you don't have to. You don't have to do any of that."

"I'm not trying to—"

"You are," Ginny said. She smiled sadly. The poor man was oblivious. "I know you don't see it, but everyone else does. How else do you explain the long nights at work, the volunteering for the most dangerous missions?"

Harry blinked. "I just like to be involved, Gin."

"I know, Harry," Ginny sighed, knowing there was no way she could ask him to give up his job. "I _know_. But it would be nice to see a little more of my husband, too. I'm only human."

Harry reached over and took her hand. "I'll cut back when the baby comes, I promise."

Ginny stared down at her pregnant belly for a moment. If she, Ginny, couldn't convince Harry to be around more, at least the baby could.

"I hope so," she said softly. "Because I don't want you to miss out on our child's life."

"I don't either," Harry insisted, leaning in to peck her lips. "I'll be around so much you'll get sick of me."

"That could never happen," Ginny giggled. "I adore you too much."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Ginny nibbled at her toast, while Harry slowly sipped his coffee.

"Tell you what," Harry said at last, "I'll cut back on my hours starting next week."

Ginny squealed and leaned over to give him a sideways hug. He smiled and rubbed her belly before dropping a quick kiss onto it. Ginny's heart fluttered. She was the luckiest woman in the world, married to her very own Superman.

* * *

_You don't have to hold the world in your hands_

_You've already shown me that you can_

_Don't have to be Superman_

_—_ "Superman," by Rachel Platten

* * *

Word count (not including song lyrics or notes): 331


	14. LunaPercy

_For the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 8. estranged)._

_Warning for mentions of canon character death._

* * *

**Self-Help for Two**

"Your mother said I might find you here." The dreamy voice rang out across the field behind the Burrow.

Percy hastily slipped a tattered photograph into his pocket as he turned to look at the speaker. He adjusted his glasses, frowning when he realized who it was.

"Luna?"

The girl—_woman_, Percy reminded himself—was wearing a forest green shirt and a flowy cobalt blue skirt. He was surprised by this; he had thought that she favored brighter colors. She had rounded off her ensemble with a tiny silver lunette pendant, and her hair was down. Her hairstyle wasn't so surprising; he couldn't remember ever seeing her with her hair up. Wearing it loose suited her carefree nature.

"Hello, Percy," she returned, cheerful as ever. She didn't seem bothered by his less-than-enthusiastic greeting. But then, nothing ever seemed to bother her much.

"Were you...looking for me?" Percy resumed staring at the small brook in front of him. He had come here to be alone, not to talk to Luna or anyone else. Whatever her motivation was for being here, he didn't much care so long as she didn't linger.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" Luna didn't answer his question—she had never been one to give straightforward answers, he recalled—and instead moved to dangle her bare feet in the water. Percy nodded reluctantly, hoping that if he stayed quiet, she would give up and leave. Suddenly, her pale grey eyes were upon him. "What were you looking at when I walked over here?"

"Nothing," Percy said dully. He didn't want to share anything personal with Luna. Truth be told, he had always found her a little off-putting. Not that he knew her well. He had grown up with her, in a very superficial sort of way, simply because her house was close to his and their families were both magical. He had barely talked to her at all over the years, and certainly didn't have any reason to do so at Hogwarts. She was in Ginny's year, and something of a good friend of hers, though, from what he could gather.

"It must have been something," Luna said, still gazing intently at him. It was getting to the point where he was starting to feel rather uncomfortable. "You looked really sad. Do you want to talk about it?"

Something about Luna's sincerity broke something in him. Perhaps it was the fact that no one else had offered to listen to him talk, too wrapped up in their own grief. "I don't know," he said, scratching his neck and looking down at his reflection in the murky water. "Maybe."

"It might help," she said gently, fingering her pendant. Percy considered her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and held out the well-worn photograph. She took it gingerly, as though she could sense that it was precious to him. She studied it with care, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, before looking back up at him. "This is a lovely picture of your brother."

Percy nodded, a lump in his throat. It was his favorite picture of Fred, taken a year or so before he died. His brother was standing in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, laughing and making faces at George, who pretended to ignore him.

"It was very sad that he died so young," Luna said, handing the picture back to him.

"Yes," Percy managed. "It was—it _is_ very sad."

Luna reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. It was small and warm, and it made him squirm a little, although he wasn't sure why. She was being so kind to him, but not in the patronizing way that most people were when they talked to him about Fred. He appreciated that.

"I sometimes wish it had been me instead of him," he blurted out. His ears reddened slightly as he realized the weight of what he had said. He quickly added, "I mean, I _used_ to wish that."

Luna shook her head. "It isn't up to me to judge how you feel, Percy. Your grief is your own."

Percy was grateful that she hadn't made a big deal out of it, the way his mother would have. She considered such thoughts forbidden, sinful.

"I distracted him," he whispered. "If I hadn't said I was resigning just then—it could have waited—"

"You couldn't have known," Luna said, squeezing his shoulder.

He looked over at her again. She was looking at him with a mixture of conviction and warmth. He wasn't used to anyone looking at him like that, much less this odd woman who had invaded his thinking spot and made him feel _heard_.

"No, I suppose not." He found himself reaching up to grasp the hand on his shoulder, wondering as he did so whether she would shrink away from his touch. She didn't. Her hand was soft, and about as pale as his own. "But I'm sure everyone blames me. They all know I was talking to him when he—when it happened."

"A famous man once said, 'We create our own demons,'" Luna replied, looking out over the trickling water. "I don't think anyone blames you. It's natural to feel as though they do, though. I felt the same way after my mother died, even though I played no part in her death."

Percy swallowed. He had forgotten that Luna had lost her mother. "Yes, of course. I'm very sorry."

"Don't be. I had nine wonderful years with her," Luna said, a fond smile gracing her features.

Percy suddenly felt ashamed. He'd had a little more than twice that with Fred, even though he had been estranged from the family for a few years prior to Fred's death. "But she was your mother. How can you be so—so happy now?"

"I don't know," Luna said thoughtfully. "I suppose I just sort of...carried on for Daddy's sake, and eventually I realized that it's not the hand we're dealt with, but rather how we deal with it that matters. Does that make sense?"

Percy nodded again. "It does." He glanced at the sky, which was beginning to darken. His mother would likely come looking for him if he wasn't back soon. He stood and looked down at Luna. "I'd better go, I don't want my mother to worry. Thank you for listening to me." He knew that didn't even come close to encapsulating just how much she had done for him, but he hoped that she understood nonetheless. He had a feeling that she would.

"Of course." Luna stood too. "What else are friends for?"

Friends. Percy turned the word over in his mind a few times, trying to make sense of it. He didn't really have friends, as he was more of a loner by nature, but he couldn't deny that he could use a friend. Especially one who understood him as well as Luna seemed to.

"I thought this was a self-help group," he joked lamely, privately thinking that Fred would have known just the right thing to say. His brother had always known how to lighten the mood. Not like Percy, who was awkward and unsure of himself no matter how hard he tried not to be. Still, Luna didn't seem to mind that he wasn't smooth and self-assured.

She shrugged. "Maybe it's that too."

Percy's eyes searched hers, looking for a hint of mirth, something that might suggest that she was joking, as he had been. But she seemed perfectly serious. "A self-help group of two?"

"It's exclusive, I guess," she said lightly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Percy admitted. "I don't mind at all."

"Good." Luna removed her hand from his shoulder, and he immediately missed the sensation. "We'll meet every Tuesday, then."

"Or maybe," Percy's smile was shy, "we could meet more often than that? Only if you felt that it would be beneficial, of course." He held his breath, afraid that he might have misread the situation entirely.

Luna returned his smile, and Percy felt himself relax a little. "I think I would enjoy that very much."

* * *

Word count: 1,353


	15. PadmaDean

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 1: __**Geography, Task #1: write a fic with the setting of a Hogwarts greenhouse. **_

_Takes place during fifth year. _

* * *

**Imprudence**

"When you said you needed help with Herbology, this isn't _exactly_ what I'd anticipated, Thomas," Padma told Dean, carefully evading the teeth of a large Fanged Geranium.

The pair stood in Greenhouse Four, sweating a little as they attempted to de-fang the toothy, crimson flower. Padma's dark hair was coming loose from her braid, and Dean's face was covered in a fine layer of perspiration.

Dean smiled sheepishly at her, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "Sorry. Thanks for doing this, though."

"Careful!" Padma admonished, but her warning came too late—the geranium had struck while Dean was distracted, leaving a deep gash on his thumb. "You can't take your eyes off it, even for a second!"

"It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine," he said hastily.

Padma held out her hand but kept her eyes fixed on the Fanged Geranium. "Let me see."

"We should really—"

"Dean." Her use of his first name startled him enough that he complied, placing his hand in hers. He shivered slightly as their skin made contact.

She walked to a different part of the greenhouse, still gently holding his hand. After a quick scan, she pulled out her wand and healed it. "You should be alright, but if anything looks amiss, go straight to Madam Pomfrey, do you hear?"

"I may be completely inept at Herbology, but I think I can manage that, at least," Dean joked, giving her a thumbs-up to make sure his healed finger was in working order.

Padma giggled, and he raised an eyebrow, having never heard the reserved Ravenclaw giggle before. "You're not inept," she said, shaking her head. "You just need to show a little more...prudence."

"Right." Dean gazed at her for a moment. On impulse, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't pull away. In fact, he thought he saw her tremble, just as he had when she had touched him. Emboldened, he asked, "Is that something you could help me with? Being more prudent?"

"I suppose so," she replied, her face and tone neutral. "It might take a bit of time, though."

Dean couldn't get a read on what she was thinking. He hoped that she didn't feel obligated to assist him. "Are you sure you want to spend your free time with a hopeless Gryffindor like me?"

"Maybe I have a thing for hopeless Gryffindors," she said with a shy smile.

Dean grinned back, his spirits soaring. "And maybe I have a thing for smart, beautiful Ravenclaws."

Padma's eyes widened. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"I've thought so ever since last year," Dean answered honestly.

Padma's smile was truly blinding. "I see," she said softly. She took a step towards him, an expectant look on her face.

Dean hesitated, then swiftly closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. A moment later, he felt her fingers timidly weaving through his hair, pulling him even closer. He smiled. Anyone walking by the greenhouse would be able to see them through the large windows, but he didn't care. Perhaps he was being imprudent, he mused, but sometimes imprudence was alright.

* * *

Word count: 525


	16. FredHermione

_For the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 124. words: growing up)._

* * *

**Trouble With Sunscreen **

Hermione was eager to soak up the sights, sounds, and smells of the beach. She yearned to feel the warm rays of sunshine, to hunt for the perfect shell, to hear the waves crash upon the shore, to smell the salty seawater. But first, she had to make sure that Fred was properly protected from the sun, and applying sunscreen was proving to be quite a challenge.

"Fred," she said sternly, "hold _still_, please."

The redhead shifted again, and she let out a sigh. "It's not my fault your touch makes me all squirmy, 'Mione," he pouted, but his blue eyes sparkled with mirth.

"You're impossible," she muttered. Louder, she said, "Turn around, please."

Fred did as she asked, and she took a moment to admire the freckles scattered across his bare back before slathering more suntan lotion on. Her fingers worked deftly to rub it in, lingering at times on a particularly interesting patch of freckles. He had a smattering of them that looked like the constellation Lupus, she noted with some amusement.

"Are you finished yet?" Fred asked impatiently.

"Not quite. I've got to do your face, too," Hermione replied. A light breeze ruffled her hair, and she used her arm to push it away from her eyes.

"I'm going to grow old standing here, you know," he said, turning around to look at her with puppy-dog eyes. "When do we get to enjoy ourselves?"

"At this rate?" Hermione said, ignoring his pleading look. "Never. I can do this _all day_, love." The look of despair that he sent her in response made her giggle. She loved when she was able to tease him back.

She began to apply sunscreen to his face, starting with his forehead, which she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach. Suddenly, he sneezed, spraying her with a fine mist.

She groaned. "Nice, Fred."

"Oh, I sneezed," he said, his face the perfect picture of innocence. "What? I'm not allowed to sneeze?"

"Will you ever grow up?" Hermione countered, though her voice lacked any real heat. She gingerly wiped her face with her arm before moving her hands to the bridge of his nose. "You could have at least warned me!"

"It snuck up on me!" Fred protested. Suddenly, he flashed her a cheeky grin. "And as to your inquiry about growing up, you should know by now that my answer is a resounding 'no.'"

He was right. Hermione knew that he would always have that youthful streak in him. It was what made him..._Fred_. She loved him for and in spite of it, and that was never going to change.

She finished working some lotion into his cheeks and gave him a quick kiss. "Come on. We can finally go and enjoy ourselves."

"Hang on." Fred grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a longer kiss. "Alright," he said, taking her hand, "_now_ I'm ready."

* * *

Word count: 486


	17. LeeAlicia

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges & Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 4: __**First Aid, Task Twelve, hydrogen peroxide: write about someone with a bubbly personality.**_

_Also written for the Oracle Competition: "We both came to this party with one friend and now they're hooking up obnoxiously and leaving us to fend for ourselves."_

_Quick note: because this is a meet-cute scenario, Alicia and Angelina don't know Lee and Fred already. _

* * *

**A Welcome Distraction**

Oliver's party was a bust. Alicia had been looking forward to getting her flirt on, but so far, nothing. She had picked out an _adorable_ outfit — leather jacket, maroon T-shirt dress, boots — so it wasn't like that was the problem. The problem was that these partygoers didn't appreciate her brilliant fashion sense. They were all too busy gyrating against each other. And speaking of busy...

Her eyes slid over to Angelina, and she felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy. Her best friend was clearly enjoying herself, if the way she had draped herself over the redheaded boy — Fred, she remembered — was any indication. She was happy for the girl, really, but she had kind of hoped Angelina could be her wingwoman, and now there was no chance of that.

No matter. Alicia prided herself on being friendly and chatty, and she knew she could charm some poor soul into talking to her. The night didn't have to be a _total_ waste.

"Hi," she chirped to the dreadlocked boy standing a few feet away and eyeing the spectacle that was Angelina and Fred snogging with a sort of morbid fascination. "You came with Fred, right? I don't think I caught your name."

"Lee," he said, grinning down at her. He was several inches shorter than his friend, but still dwarfed Alicia by a good half a foot. "And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

Alicia flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled back. "Alicia. As for the 'pleasure' bit...well, you haven't seen anything yet."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not really," Alicia said slyly. "I'm warning you, though, I like to talk. A lot. I've been called 'annoying' and 'tiresome' on more than one occasion."

"I find that hard to believe." Lee's grin had become a smirk.

Alicia laughed and gave him a nudge. "I'm sure that isn't the only thing that's _hard _for you at the moment."

"Oh, I can guarantee it isn't," Lee chuckled.

"Your secret is safe with me," she winked.

After exchanging a few more suggestive remarks, Alicia decided to push things further along.

"God, I could listen to you talk all day," she said dreamily. "You sound like you could be an announcer or something."

"As a matter of fact, I was," Lee told her. "Back in school, I sometimes announced the sports games."

"Wicked!" Alicia said. She glanced over at Angelina and Fred again. They wouldn't miss either of their friends for a bit, by the look of things. "Our friends seem pretty well occupied. Grab some fresh air with me."

Lee agreed, and she took the opportunity to grab his hand, which he didn't object to. The pair made their way past sweaty, dancing bodies and a table of food before finally reaching the back door.

"After you," Lee said, gesturing outside.

Alicia stepped onto the small porch and shivered. Her bare legs protested the chilly air, and she wished she had chosen to wear something a little more practical.

"Cold?" Lee asked.

"A little," she said truthfully. "Nothing I can't handle, though. Just...distract me, please."

Lee shoved his hands into his pockets. Alicia didn't read that as a defensive gesture, however; she figured he was just trying to ward off the chill. "How?" he asked at last.

"Well, for starters, you can tell me why you came to this party. Do you know Oliver?"

"Yeah, we were mates in school. Well, Fred was, really, but I knew the bloke too. So here we are." Lee nodded at her. "What about you?"

"His girlfriend, Katie, is one of my best friends," she explained.

"Ah, that makes sense."

Alicia wasn't sure how long they stayed outside talking, only that after a while, she stopped noticing the cold and started paying more attention to Lee's warm brown eyes and contagious laugh. She learned that he had a pet tarantula as a child and that he still enjoyed a good practical joke. In return, she told him that she was afraid of lightning and had played for her school's football team.

At some point, she realized that she was standing so close to Lee that their arms were touching, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She was past the innocent flirting stage now. She wanted more.

Lee was in the middle of telling her about a particularly epic prank he, Fred, and Fred's twin George had pulled on their schoolteacher when she decided to go through with her query.

"Lee," she interrupted, "would you want to go out with me sometime?"

Lee stared at her. Only a few seconds went by, but it was enough time for her to hope that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

"Never mind," she said quickly, forcing a laugh that sounded strained, fake. "I was only joking."

"That's a shame," Lee said quietly. "I would have said yes."

Alicia's spirits lifted along with the corners of her mouth. "Yeah?"

"I'd be crazy to turn you down," he grinned. "You're the cutest girl here, and probably the funniest, too. And you know what else?"

"What?" She batted her eyelashes at him, shamelessly awaiting any further compliments he might give.

"Those people are wrong. You're not annoying _or_ tiresome. I bet I could spend an entire day with you and not get tired of you," he declared.

"You're on," she giggled, holding her hand out so that they could shake on it.

Lee ended up winning that particular bet.

* * *

Word count: 924


	18. CharlieNeville

_Written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - Pygmy Puff: write in the romance genre. _

* * *

**Doubts**

Neville didn't understand why, of all the people Ginny could have set him up with, it had to be her brother Charlie. Not that Charlie wasn't attractive, because he _was_, but it wasn't like they had much in common. Charlie wrangled dragons; Neville preferred the company of plants. Charlie wore his hair rather long; Neville kept his short. And that was just the start of a long list of differences.

Still, Neville couldn't bear the thought of Charlie reporting back to his sister that he was a boring date, so he tried to muster up his best conversational skills.

"So, erm, do you see much of Ron these days?" he asked after polite introductory chitchat had been exhausted.

Charlie took a sip of beer before answering. "Not really. He's busy with Auror training."

"Right, of course," Neville said, inwardly berating himself for asking such a stupid question. He downed the rest of his wine while racking his brain for something else to say. A moment later, he tried again. "What about Ginny, do you see her much?"

Charlie shrugged. "Yeah, a fair bit. She talks about you a lot."

"She does?" Neville asked, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth in his surprise.

"Well, yeah, she thinks you're a hero," Charlie said, as if that should be obvious.

Neville could feel the unmistakable signs of a blush coming on and ducked to hide his face. "I'm not a hero," he mumbled. He glanced back up to find Charlie staring intently at him and turned even redder.

"Not a hero, eh?" Charlie said thoughtfully, taking another swig of his drink. "Did you or did you not chop off that snake's head?"

"I did what I had to do. That's all," Neville said, staring back down at his empty glass. He wasn't trying to be modest; that was genuinely how he felt. Why people thought him a hero for doing what needed to be done, he would never comprehend. He was still just Neville — awkward, clumsy, _unfortunate_ Neville.

Charlie didn't seem to be buying it, however. "I dunno, mate, I think that was pretty ballsy."

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore," Neville said abruptly. He hadn't missed the look of admiration on Charlie's face, and it was making him rather uncomfortable. "Sorry," he added quickly. "I would just rather talk about you."

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. "Can't see why, but alright."

"You can't?" Neville was incredulous. "You're—you're _Charlie Weasley_, you work with one of the most dangerous creatures there is—"

"That's bollocks," Charlie interrupted. "There's loads more dangerous creatures than dragons."

"Alright, but you can't deny that your life is pretty, well, glamorous compared to mine," Neville said.

Charlie laughed, and Neville blushed once more. "Sorry. It's just... I've never seen it that way, you know? It's always just been my calling."

"That's how I feel about my work," Neville told him. "Except no one thinks working with plants is glamorous."

"I do," Charlie said earnestly, leaving Neville feeling a bit lost for words.

"Well, I guess there's a first for everything," he finally said, chuckling nervously. He was enjoying talking to the redhead, but he still felt way out of his depths. Enough so that when he saw Charlie finish the last of his second beer, he stood up and held out his hand. "Thank you for meeting me, Charlie. This was...fun."

Charlie looked surprised. "Leaving already?"

"Yes. I'd love to stay and continue this delightful conversation but…one of my plants is, erm, sick, and needs almost-constant care," Neville lied. It wasn't a complete lie; his beloved _Mimbulus mimbletonia _had been acting strangely of late.

"Right." Charlie didn't sound totally convinced, but he didn't voice his doubts to Neville. "Well, we should do this again sometime."

Neville blinked. Charlie looked perfectly serious, but he _was_ related to Fred and George...

"I mean it," the older man insisted, seemingly reading his mind. "I'd love to see you again, Neville."

Neville hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it slipped out nonetheless: "Why?"

"There's just something about you," Charlie replied. "I'm not sure I could explain even if I wanted to."

"Oh." Neville wondered if perhaps he had been listening to too many of Ginny's romance novel plots — he had been so sure Charlie was going to extoll his virtues for a good five minutes.

"I was kind of hoping for a bit more than an 'oh,' Neville," Charlie laughed.

"It's not because you think I'm a hero, is it?" Neville bit his lip. He sounded so insecure — Charlie was definitely going to rethink seeing him again.

Charlie leaned over and grabbed his hand, causing him to gasp softly. "Of course not." His eyes searched Neville's, and Neville found himself nodding.

"I'm free most evenings and weekends," he said, smiling shyly.

Charlie grinned. "Perfect."

* * *

Word count: 813


	19. HannahNeville

_Written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - House Elf: write about a Hufflepuff._

* * *

**The Promise**

Hannah twisted the ring around her finger absentmindedly before realizing what she was doing. She straightened the thin silver band and held out her finger to admire the oval-shaped, deep red stone — garnet. Her birthstone. It really was perfect.

An irritated voice interrupted her musings. "Oi, woman, can I get that drink or are you going to stand there admiring that bloody ring all day?"

Hannah nearly jumped, especially when she saw that the man's light brown eyes bore a strong resemblance to Neville's. "Sorry," she squeaked, mentally berating herself for caring so much about a piece of jewelry.

_It isn't just any piece of jewelry_, she reminded herself as she passed a bottle towards the irate customer. _It's a promise._ The thought made a wide smile stretch across her face.

...

_"I—I want to marry you someday, Hannah Abbott," Neville said earnestly, his round face slightly pink, but determined nonetheless. He fumbled in the pocket of his robes for a moment before pulling out a ring box. "I thought this could—could symbolize that promise." _

_Hannah took the small black box from him, smiling shyly when their fingers brushed against each other. "You didn't have to do that, Neville."_

_"I wanted to," he insisted. "I wanted—I _needed—_you to know how special you are to me. You never know when—when your happiness might be ripped away from you forever."_

_Hannah's eyes welled up with tears as she realized the weight of Neville's worries. Still holding the box, she wrapped her arms around his trembling form. "The war is over, love," she whispered. "Nothing is going to take me away from you now." _

_Neville sniffed. "You could still leave me anyway. I'm not very handsome, or clever—"_

_"Neville Longbottom," Hannah said firmly, fixing him with a stern gaze, "I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never going to leave you." _

_The expression of pure joy on Neville's face made her heart swell, and she was certain a similar look must be reflected on her own features._

_..._

Hannah had opened the box shortly thereafter, gasping with delight at the beautiful, delicate ring. Neville had been very pleased by her reaction, and her reassurances that nothing but death could tear them apart only bolstered his confidence. Beaming, he had slipped the band onto her finger and given her a gentle, loving kiss.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the slight pressure of his lips on hers and the rhythm of his heartbeat pounding against her chest. She did so now, relishing that moment and the intoxicating feeling of being adored. After a moment, she opened her eyes and smiled down at her finger yet again. She had meant every word that she said to Neville — she was never, ever going to leave him.

Suddenly, Hannah registered the gaze of the customer standing directly in front of her, looking at her with open curiosity. _Time to return to reality, Hannah._ But even as she asked the woman for her order, part of her remained blissfully in the clouds.

* * *

Word count: 509


	20. RemusSirius

_First and foremost, this was written for Anna. :) Prompts were WolfStar and "Dead End," by Anna Clendening._

_Also written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - mountain troll: write about a half-blood._

* * *

**Won't Settle for Second Place**

Remus took a deep, shaky breath. It was over. It was all over.

...

_Earlier that day:_

"Remus," Sirius whispered, cradling him, "I'm so glad you called."

Remus tried to smile. Tried to pretend that he didn't notice the flowery smell lingering on Sirius' skin. Marlene. Of course.

He felt disgusted with himself, with how _weak_ he was when it came to Sirius. How pathetic he was to let himself be used, strung along. Always second, never first.

"I was lonely," he confessed, unable to meet his lover's gaze. He wondered if regret had ever tasted so bitter.

"Poor Moony," Sirius cooed, stroking Remus' cheek. A mischievous grin appeared on his face seconds later. "Good thing I'm here, isn't it?"

Remus didn't answer. Sirius pulled away and frowned at him. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm fine."

Just drowning in a tsunami of his own making, every terrible choice that led up to the realization that Sirius was never going to leave Marlene for him. How foolish he had been to hope.

"Remus?" Sirius' slate grey eyes held a touching amount of concern, but Remus shrugged it off.

"I was just...thinking," he said carefully.

Sirius propped himself up on his elbows. "About?"

Remus played with the sheet for a moment. The plum and teal stripes seemed to mock him somehow. "Do you love me, Sirius?" he asked at last.

The dark-haired man laughed. "Of course I do."

"And Marlene?" he pressed. "Do you love her, too?"

Sirius stiffened slightly. "Where are you going with this, Remus?"

"Just answer the damn question, Sirius. Do you love her? Yes or no?"

"No!" Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "I've told you, she's just a distraction. I love YOU."

Remus wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that Marlene meant nothing to him. But he had seen the two together. He had seen the way Sirius looked at her as though she was an angel put on this Earth to be his.

He wrenched the sheet off and stood. "That's a lie."

"What do you want me to say, Moony?"

It was Remus' turn to laugh, mirthlessly. "Honestly? There's nothing you _can_ say, Sirius. We can't continue on like this. _I_ can't continue on like this. I'm not willing to do it anymore."

"Do what?" Sirius looked quite confused, and rightfully so.

Remus dredged up the words and forced them out. "Play second fiddle to Marlene," he said softly. Sirius reached for him; he shrank away. "Don't. Please. I've made up my mind."

"I refuse to believe that," Sirius said through clenched teeth.

Remus crossed to his bedroom door and opened it. "Please don't make me call James."

"Remus." Sirius got to his feet and looked pleadingly at him. There had been a time when Remus would have done anything for that look.

"Go," he choked out. "Just go."

Sirius seemed to understand the gravity of the situation at last. Seemed to finally get that Remus was cutting him off. He swept past Remus without another glance at him, no doubt off to seek refuge in Marlene's arms.

As soon as he shut the door again, Remus sank to his knees and wept.

He'd done it. He'd actually done it, though he didn't feel as weightless and free as he'd expected he would. He felt lost, aimless, and more than a little sad. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to contact Sirius, to tell him it was all a mistake.

Except it wasn't a mistake.

His mistake, he reminded himself, had been in letting himself fall for the man knowing full well that he would never change. Would always go crawling back to Marlene, no matter what.

...

A short while later, Lily showed up with a fresh supply of chocolate and a shoulder to cry on.

"You can do so much better, Remus," she told him, wrapping her arms around him and lightly scratching his back with her nails. "Trust me. Your feelings for Sirius...they weren't going anywhere. Some day, you'll find someone to give all of that love to, and you will make that person so incredibly happy."

Remus closed his eyes and nodded. She was right, even if it still felt a little bit like the world was falling to pieces around him. He would get through this, and he would find someone who would make him a priority.

He owed himself that much.

* * *

Word count: 740


	21. ViktorTonks

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 5 - __**Culinary Arts, Task 1: write about a birthday. **_

_Also written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - House Elf: write about a Hufflepuff._

* * *

**An Un-fur-gettable Birthday**

Tonks had had a long day at the Ministry. She had spent most of her day running about, trying to placate the right people (whoever said being an Auror wasn't political?) and now she was exhausted.

Any plans of running a long bath and snuggling up in bed evaporated as soon as she saw Viktor, however. Her surly Bulgarian boyfriend was waiting for her at the door to their flat. In his hands, he held a package wrapped in sensible brown paper.

"This is for you," he said gruffly, thrusting the bundle at her. Tonks was accustomed to his varying degrees of gruffness by now to know that this was an affectionate sort of gruffness, however. "Happy birthday, Nymphadora."

"Tonks," she corrected automatically, then smiled brightly at him. With all of the stress at work, she had completely forgotten that it was her birthday. "You didn't have to get me anything, Viktor."

He waved a hand. "It vos nothing. You vill like."

"Well, thank you," Tonks said, plunking herself down at the small wooden table in the kitchen.

She made quick work of unwrapping the present, which turned out to be an assortment of fur clothes — a silver stole with matching earmuffs and a pure white coat. She studied them, a bit puzzled. Her memory wasn't the _best_, but she couldn't remember ever mentioning a desire for such extravagant garments.

"Blimey. These are...great," she said, holding up the coat and trying not to imagine spilling wine — or anything else — on it. "They must have cost a fortune, though. You know, I'd have been alright with some new shoes for work or something. You really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"No trouble. And these are not just from me. They are also from my family," Viktor explained. "Every veek I am writing them, telling them vot a vonderful person you are. They vont to meet you, Nymphadora. That is other part of your present. Ve vill spend two veeks with them next month."

In her shock, Tonks nearly dropped the coat, and had to scramble to keep it from hitting the floor. _"Two weeks_? With...with your _family_?"

"Ve haff been together for nearly two years and still they have not met you," Viktor reminded her, tucking a strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear. "They vould like to meet mother of my children."

"But we...we don't have any children," Tonks said dazedly.

Viktor shrugged. "Not yet. But maybe soon ve vill, they are thinking."

Tonks looked at him in dismay. Kids weren't something that she had given much thought to, if she was being honest. "I'm only 25, Viktor. And you—you're still playing Quidditch! There'll be plenty of time for kids later."

"Yes, I know this. But my family vould still like to meet you," Viktor persisted. He took her hands in his and locked eyes with her. "It vould mean a lot to me if you vent on trip."

Tonks squirmed a little, racking her brain for an excuse not to go, before letting out a sigh. If it was that important to Viktor, she would do it for his sake. After all, he hardly ever asked anything else of her. "Alright, fine, but no kid talk. And do I really have to wear these clothes?"

"My family vill be most insulted if you do not vear them," Viktor told her, looking as though he was hiding a smile.

"Damn," she muttered. She just knew she was going to ruin that coat.

* * *

Word count: 591


	22. PadmaCho

_Written for the Back to School Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - 8. one set of brass scales: write from a Ravenclaw's POV._

* * *

**It All Started With a Meeting**

Padma only attends the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army because Cho is going. Well, Cho _and_ Marietta, and she's determined not to look like a wimp in front of her girlfriend and her girlfriend's best friend.

"It'll be fine, Padma," Cho says encouragingly. "We're just going to go hear what Harry has to say."

"Yeah, but...the Hog's Head, Cho?" Padma bites her lip. "That seems like such a dodgy place!"

"Well, I reckon Harry has his reasons for wanting to meet there," Cho replies, grabbing her hand. "Come on, Marietta's waiting for us in the common room."

...

The simple act of Cho holding her hand is enough to bolster Padma until they reach the pub, where she begins to have second thoughts again.

"You don't think we'll get in trouble, do you?" she whispers, praying that Marietta doesn't hear her.

The redhead snorts. "Scared, Padma?"

Padma laughs nervously. "Of course not," she says quickly, before adding, "If any of us should be scared, it's _you_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marietta takes on an aggressive stance, hands on her hips.

"I think," Cho cuts in, "Padma just meant that with your mum working for the Ministry, it's more risky for you to be here. That's all, right, Padma?"

Padma nods, her throat dry. She doesn't know what it is about Marietta, but that girl has always rubbed her the wrong way. She puts up with her for Cho's sake, though.

Marietta's eyes narrow, but she says nothing more.

"Great!" Cho says brightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension between her girlfriend and best friend. "Now that that's been cleared up, let's go in, shall we?"

...

The meeting is brief — just enough time for Padma to learn what she's getting herself into. In theory, the group sounds like a good idea, but in practice, she isn't so sure.

"Do you think Harry can even find a place big enough for all of us to practice in secret?" she asks Cho at dinner that night.

Cho nods. "If anyone can, it's Harry."

Padma notes her confidence with some bitterness. She's well aware that Cho has had a thing for Harry for a while now.

"Well, I guess we'll see about that, won't we?" Marietta sniffs. She seems a little more touchy than usual, but Padma doesn't think anything of it.

"Yeah," Padma says, taking a bite of shepherd's pie, "I guess we'll see."

...

When Marietta is revealed to be the snitch, Padma is elated. Perhaps now her girlfriend will see how horrible she has been all along.

The last thing she expected was for Cho to _defend_ her.

"Everyone keeps saying what an awful thing it was for Marietta to have done, but I don't see it, do you?" Cho asks.

Padma shrugs, tries to remain neutral. "I was as shocked as you, Cho."

"I mean, her mum practically works for Umbridge. She didn't really have a choice." Cho sighs. "I should never have dragged her to that first meeting."

"I—what? You think this is _your _fault?" Padma can't help but sound a little incredulous. "This had nothing to do with you."

"Well, she wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for me—"

"I wouldn't have either, and you don't see me walking around with pimples announcing to the world that I'm a sneak, do you?" Cho's willingness to stand up for Marietta is almost as irritating as the girl herself, and Padma has had enough.

Cho jumps to her feet. "You sound just like Harry," she says sourly, storming off.

If only the comparison had been more favorable — Padma would have been thrilled.

...

Cho ignores Padma for nearly a week. Padma tries not to be hurt by this, tries to spend more time with Parvati and Lavender and even Luna Lovegood. She tells herself that this is a good thing. She's branching out, strengthening the relationships she abandoned for Cho.

"You should talk to her, Padma," Parvati says, patting her arm. "I know you're probably waiting for her to approach you first, but you need to just grit your teeth and do it, or you could be waiting a while."

"'Grit your teeth and do it?' How very Gryffindor of you," Padma teases.

Parvati throws a green bean at her. "Shut up."

...

"You can't stay mad forever."

This isn't what Padma envisioned she would say to Cho, but it's the first thing that popped into her head. Normally, she would have planned this out better, but she's trying to follow her twin's advice. Too late, she's remembered why she doesn't do that anymore.

"Sorry?" Cho looks at Padma like she's dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

"You can't stay mad forever," Padma repeats. She can't think of anything to add to that.

Cho's eyebrow looks as though it's raised as high as it can possibly go. "I'm not mad."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

"Alright, fine, maybe I'm a little mad," Cho concedes. "You were supposed to stick by me, and you didn't!"

"Because you were supporting a—a _traitor_!" Padma hisses. "She could have gotten us all into terrible trouble!"

Cho laughs humorlessly. "It's funny how you want to call her a traitor when you would have done the exact same thing to save your own skin. Don't even try to deny it."

Padma tries not to show just how deeply those words have cut her. It hurts, because she knows deep down that Cho is right. She's a coward, and always has been. She might as well do something about it.

...

The rest of the school year passes in something of a blur. Marietta's pimples refuse to fade. Cho begins seeing Harry. Later, they break up, but by that point, Padma has stopped caring. Perhaps that is because she has started a new relationship herself, with one Hermione Granger.

After a D.A. meeting one evening, Padma went up to her and held out a book, a thick tome that discussed the history of various jinxes.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "This looks amazing, Padma," she said. She rifled through it eagerly and found the little note that Padma tucked inside: _Care to discuss over dinner sometime? My treat._ A blush and a nod later, and Padma had her answer.

...

As everyone says their goodbyes for the summer, Padma spots Cho standing alone on the platform.

"Have a good summer," she says awkwardly to her former girlfriend.

"You too," Cho says softly. After a moment, Padma steps forward and gives her a quick hug.

"You know, I never properly thanked you for making me go to that first D.A. meeting," she tells her. "So...thanks."

"You're welcome," Cho says before disappearing into the crowd, no doubt looking for Marietta.

Padma smiles. In a way, that first meeting was the start of a new chapter in her life, and for that, she will always be grateful to Cho.

"There will be time for reminiscing later," Parvati says loudly into her ear, her uncanny ability to read Padma's thoughts proving itself once again. "Let's go, Mum and Dad are waiting."

Padma slips her arm through her twin's and together, they make their way towards their parents.

* * *

Word count: 1,199


	23. RemusTonks

_Written for the Back to School Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - _'The Dark Forces - A Guide to Self-Protection': write from the POV of a DADA professor.

_Warning; implied self-harm, character death/implied suicide. _

* * *

**Ivy and Stone**

"Remus," Dora says excitedly, "I'm pregnant."

And with just those two words, Remus' world falls apart.

...

Regret and shame are his constant companions now. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let himself think he could ever have a normal life?

He begins to use his transformations as punishment, biting and scratching himself harder than he ever has before.

In the morning, he welcomes the pain.

...

"We should start decorating the nursery soon, don't you think?" Dora asks.

Remus wants to say no. The longer he puts it off, the less he has to think about it. The less _real_ it is to him. But instead, he agrees.

They spend an afternoon assembling a crib and picking out paint colors.

...

Dora's stomach grows bigger, a painful reminder of Remus' failure. It becomes habit for him to avert his eyes from it, to pretend this isn't happening.

"Aren't you excited, Remus?" Dora asks.

He picks his reply carefully. "Our lives are about to change forever."

Dora doesn't seem to notice that he didn't really answer her question.

…

"I brought you dinner," Remus tells Dora. "Chicken and rice."

She takes the offered meal, her fingers lingering a little too long on his arm.

"Thanks," she says, smiling hopefully at him.

He hates her optimism. That's what got him into this relationship in the first place.

...

The thunderstorm shows no signs of stopping. Remus sighs and tries to focus on his book, but the booming thunder is too loud to drown out, and the bright flashes of lightning are almost as distracting.

After a few more futile minutes, he stands and stretches, then heads to the kitchen. The light is already on, and he finds Dora at the small table, sipping on some herbal tea.

"Want some?" she asks quietly, nodding towards her cup.

"Sure," he replies, hesitant to intrude on her sanctuary. "Thunder keeping you awake too?"

"Yeah. But I guess you'd know that if you bothered to sleep in the same room as me."

She doesn't try and hide her bitterness. Remus wonders if he should be thankful for that.

"Sorry," he says. As if "sorry" will ever make up for all the damage he has caused.

...

Dora barely talks to him anymore. He doesn't blame her.

He stopped making an effort long ago.

...

Teddy is born, and he is beautiful. He is healthy, too — exhibiting only Metamorphmagus traits, not lycanthropic ones.

Remus is relieved, but he isn't ready to let Dora back in.

He's afraid, he's so _afraid_, that this was all just a fluke.

…

"We should talk, Remus," Dora says. "About...us."

Remus' throat goes dry, and all he can do is nod.

"Are you going to leave me?"

Remus once found her blunt nature endearing — now, he has to work not to recoil from her.

"Why would you—"

"You're not exactly hiding your unhappiness with me," Dora snaps.

"I'm sor—"

"Sorry?" Dora's voice has taken on a hysterical edge. "Oh, you're _sorry_. You're always so bloody _sorry_!"

"What do you want, Dora?" he asks tiredly.

"I want you to _decide_. I want you to pick _us. _I'm... I'm tired of waiting on you to make a choice that can be made without a second thought."

Remus hangs his head. If only it were that easy.

...

The battle rages on around him but Remus isn't afraid anymore. He's made up his mind. Dora...Dora will have to understand.

He sees a green flash of light fly towards Kingsley and immediately dives in front of it.

_Forgive me, Dora. I was never going to be enough for you._

* * *

Word count: 606


	24. ViktorCedric

_Written for the Back to School Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - one pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar): write from a Hufflepuff's POV._

_Warning: use of a homophobic slur._

* * *

**Fight for You**

"Kiss me," Viktor murmured.

"What, here? Aren't you afraid someone might see us?" Cedric asked, biting his lip. The clocktower courtyard was rather crowded around lunchtime.

Viktor shook his head. "Let them see," he said in his thick accent. "I do not care."

Cedric didn't care either. Well, maybe a small part of him did. He was just so used to the adoration and worship of his peers—female ones, in particular. How would they react to the knowledge that he was in a relationship with a male, and the Durmstrang champion at that?

Cedric's panicked thoughts were interrupted by Viktor's lips on his. He sighed and melted into the other boy, winding his fingers through Viktor's long, dark hair. How could he have any doubts when this felt so...so right?

A high-pitched shriek interrupted their passionate kiss. It was Pansy Parkinson, gossip queen extraordinaire, and her loud reaction had drawn even more attention to them. As if he could sense that Cedric was planning to make a run for it, Viktor grabbed his hand and looked sternly at him.

"Just ignore them," he said. "You owe them nothing."

Cedric swallowed hard. Viktor was right, but he still felt as though some sort of explanation was in order. Just as he opened his mouth to say...something, ANYTHING, Adrien Pucey decided to speak.

"Oi, Diggory!" he yelled. "Never took you for a poof!"

Cedric flinched. This was what he had worried about—the name-calling felt even worse than he had imagined. Sure, he had been on the receiving end of snarky digs like "prettyboy" or "thicker than a troll," but this felt more personal, somehow. This cut to the root of who he was.

Viktor put his arm around Cedric in a protective gesture and shouted something in Bulgarian back at Pucey. Cedric didn't know Bulgarian, but he had a feeling it was a threat of some kind based on the rude hand gestures Viktor was making.

"Come on, let's just go," Cedric mumbled, as Pucey's friends hurried him away. "He's not worth it. None of them are."

"I vill not let them treat you like this," Viktor said angrily. "You are good person, Cedric Diggory. You deserve respect."

Cedric shook his head. "I don't think any of them are going to see it that way. At least, not right now." He started to walk away, but Viktor pulled him back.

"Vhere are you going?"

"I don't know." His voice broke. "I just...need some time to think."

Viktor grew still. "About us?"

Cedric nodded, his throat tight. Around them, a few students continued to stare. He wished they wouldn't. It would make everything so much easier.

"Vot is there to think about?" Viktor asked, frowning. "Ve are good together, no?"

"We are," Cedric said softly, "but I'm...not ready for this. For everything to change so thoroughly."

"I see." Viktor's expression was unreadable now. "Vell, I am sorry."

"What for?" Cedric asked, puzzled.

"For wasting my time on someone who isn't willing to fight for what he wants," the Bulgarian replied. He looked into Cedric's eyes for a long moment, then turned and walked away.

Cedric watched him go, his heart pounding. This was it. He could move on with his life now. Forget about this whole thing with Viktor.

But watching Viktor slump away didn't feel good. In fact, it felt awful.

Cedric stood there, rooted to the spot, as memories flooded through him. Snatches of awkward chitchat with Viktor made way for deeper conversation, then the lingering touches and electric eye contact that followed, and finally, the kisses and embraces that had made him feel more alive than ever. Could he let all of that go?

He hurried out of the courtyard and into the Great Hall, spotting Viktor almost immediately at the Slytherin table. Viktor glanced over at him, then went back to talking to Theodore Nott.

Cedric strode over and cleared his throat. "Viktor."

Viktor stood and faced him, arms crossed over his burly chest. "Yes?"

Cedric hesitated. He had never been good with words, but would Viktor respond to physical contact? "I'm sorry for wasting your time, too," he said at last. He grabbed Viktor's sleeve and pulled him closer. "But most of all, I'm sorry for letting you think I wouldn't fight for you."

Viktor's eyes widened. "Vot does this mean?"

Cedric leaned forward and kissed him, oblivious to the stunned silence from those around him. A moment later, he stepped back, blushing faintly. "It means I want you, regardless of the scrutiny and the jeers and the disapproval."

Viktor smiled and took his hand. "Vonderful."

* * *

Word count: 772


	25. HermioneCedric

_Written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - 2. Veela: write about someone attractive. _

_Written for the Back to School Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort): one winter cloak (black with silver fastenings): write from a Gryffindor's POV._

* * *

**Refund Request**

"Hello, welcome to Fanciful Flowers," Hermione said to the handsome, brown-haired man who entered. She tilted her head. "Have I seen you before?"

"Er, yeah." The man shot her a pained smile. "I was just here a few days ago, buying these." He held up a now-limp bouquet of flowers. "I'd like to return them."

Hermione remembered now, and felt silly for not recognizing him right away. He was incredibly striking.

"Oh!" Hermione took the bouquet and looked over it, puzzled. "Was there something wrong with them, then?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "My girlfriend didn't appreciate them."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Hermione said, still confused.

"She dumped me," he muttered. "Turns out she's been screwing another bloke."

"Oh." Hermione's eyes widened, but she didn't know what else to say to that. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

The man waved a hand at her. "Don't be. I just thought I'd see if I could return these."

"Oh, erm, normally you wouldn't, but... I'll see what I can do." Hermione flashed him a quick smile and went off to find the eccentric owner of the shop, Xenophilius.

Xenophilius was sitting in his office, sipping tea. His feet were propped up on his desk, and he was wiggling his toes — clad in bubblegum pink socks — frantically. Hermione had to stifle a giggle.

"Hermione!" he boomed, as soon as he noticed her presence. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Mr. Lovegood, sir, I was wondering...that is, there's a gentleman here who bought some flowers a few days ago and he...he wants to return them because his girlfriend broke up with him."

Xenophilius looked thoughtful. "Broke up with him, you say?"

Hermione nodded. "He seems nice," she felt compelled to add. "I don't think he's making it up or anything."

"Hmmm." Xenophilius contemplated his twitching toes for a few moments, then returned his attention to Hermione. "Tell the lad he can have a refund, and pass on my greatest condolences."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said. She made to leave the room, but curiosity got the better of her. "What are you doing with your toes, if I may ask?"

Xenophilius smiled kindly at her. "Why, I'm trying to improve my insomnia. This is the latest recommendation from the Health Gurus."

Hermione was tempted to tell him that the Health Guru advice was a load of bunk, but she held her tongue, nodded, and returned to the front of the store.

"Sorry about that," she told the man.

"No problem," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I spoke to Mr. Lovegood," Hermione went on. "He said to give you a refund."

The man's face broke out in a smile, making him look even more handsome. "That's great. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Hermione echoed, crossing behind the counter. "Do you have your receipt?"

The man set the flowers on the counter and dug around in his pocket before producing a crumpled piece of paper. "Yeah. Here." He held it out to her.

"Perfect." She studied it for a moment, then tapped a few buttons, causing the cash drawer to spring open. After counting out a few bills and a couple of coins, she handed them to the man.

She bit back a gasp as his hand brushed hers. It felt like an electric current had traveled between them. He must have felt it too, because he stared at her in shock.

"Sorry," she muttered, drawing her hand back and trying to pretend the last few seconds hadn't happened. Her eyes fell on the wilted bouquet. "Erm, let me throw these out for you. Or...did you want to do the honors?"

He looked slightly dazed as he replied, "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. "Would you like me to repeat the question?"

"Yes, please. Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"I just asked if you wanted me to throw away those flowers or if maybe you wanted to do it? I guess I thought maybe it would be...cathartic for you. You know, like a symbolic trashing of your relationship. Or something." She shook her head. "I'm rambling. Sorry."

"No, I see what you were getting at. I like it," the man said earnestly. He picked up the flowers and looked around.

"There's a bin back here," Hermione said, pointing at it.

The man joined her behind the counter, and Hermione wondered if he felt the same shift in energy that she did. There was a sudden tension now that they were both confined to the same small bit of space.

She cleared her throat. "Have at it, then."

The man made a show of drawing his arm back and lobbing the bouquet into the bin. Hermione clapped and cheered as it reached its target.

"Feel better?"

"Loads," he grinned. "Thank you so much...erm, sorry, I don't know your name, but I feel like I should."

"Oh!" Hermione blushed. "I'm Hermione."

"Thank you so much, Hermione," the man said. "I'm Cedric, by the way."

Hermione smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"I hope this doesn't seem too forward, but would you want to have dinner with me sometime?" Cedric looked as though he was holding his breath waiting for her reply, so Hermione was quick to give it.

"I'd love to, provided you don't mind if I ramble."

Cedric laughed. Even his laugh was beautiful. "I don't mind one bit."

* * *

Word count: 902


	26. OliverFleur

_Written for Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort) - 21. phoenix: write about someone flying._

**MC4A**

**Stacked with:** The Golden Snitch Forum

**Individual Challenge(s):** In a Flash (N); Gryffindor MC, Beauxbatons MC, Old Shoes

**Representation(s):** a breakup; a departure; conflict

**Bonus Challenge(s):** These Boots; A Long Dog; Terse; Yarrow

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s):** n/a

**Word Count:** 600

* * *

**Icarus Undone**

"Fleur," Oliver says, holding his hand out to her, "come fly with me."

She shakes her head violently, her luminous, silvery hair cascading in ripples. "_Non_. I refuse."

"What are you so afraid of?" It's a genuine question, not a challenge.

"Falling," she breathes, and the look on her face makes Oliver's chest tighten.

"I promise I won't let you fall," he whispers, wrapping his burly arms around her. She sags against him and buries her face in his broad chest.

He barely catches it when she whispers, "Alright," into his shirt.

...

The wind rushes through Oliver's hair and he lets out a whoop of joy. His broomstick responds to the slightest of touches, and he makes a game of maneuvering it while barely using his hands.

Nails dig into his skin and he turns to find Fleur clinging to his waist, looking thoroughly panicked.

"Don't look back 'ere," she shrieks, her voice almost indiscernible over the gusts of wind. "Keep looking forward!"

"Relax, Fleur," he laughs, as she squeezes her eyes shut. "You worry too much."

He doesn't notice the tree until it's too late.

...

"How is she?" Oliver demands. His hands are shoved into his pockets so that no one will notice they're trembling. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," he adds, his voice breaking.

It has been nearly a week since the accident, and while he was discharged after a few days, Fleur has remained at St. Mungo's for head trauma observation.

He has been the faithful boyfriend, sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital chairs as often as he can stand to, hoping that Fleur will be alright. He doesn't know how he'll live with himself if she isn't.

The Healer looks at him and smiles, and Oliver feels the knot of worry in his stomach loosen.

"Miss Delacour is making a wonderful recovery." She pauses, then adds, "You were both very lucky."

"I know," Oliver whispers.

...

Fleur is sleeping in her room when Oliver enters. He doesn't know what to do at first, so he simply holds his girlfriend's hand and strokes her hair. Finally, she stirs and looks at him, her face breaking into an angelic smile.

"Olivier," she whispers, squeezing his hand. "_Mon petit chou_."

He smiles back weakly. "Hey, you." She tries to sit up, but he doesn't let her. "The Healers will have my head if you exert yourself too much."

"I do not care what they say," she scoffs, jutting out her chin. "I want you to 'old me."

Oliver can't help it; a laugh bubbles out of him. Fleur hasn't lost her endearing stubborness and right now, that's all that matters.

...

Fleur doesn't want Oliver to fly anymore, too worried that he'll hurt himself again. He starts to find her stubbornness irritating.

...

"You 'ave been flying again, 'aven't you?" Fleur asks, her tone sharp. Her hands are on her hips, and she looks ready to rip Oliver's head off. Somehow, she's even more beautiful when she's angry.

Oliver gulps. Regardless of what happened, flying is his first love, and he just can't seem to stay away. "I—I didn't go more than a few feet off the ground, Fleur. I swear."

The lie tastes bitter in his mouth.

...

"I think we are not meant to be, Olivier."

Those are the last words Fleur says before she slams the front door shut.

Oliver doesn't chase after her, despite feeling as though he should. Instead, he sinks to the floor and wonders how he can love flying so much when it has destroyed every last one of his relationships.


	27. LavenderSeamus

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 6: __**Psychiatry, Task #1: write about a familial relationship interfering with a romantic relationship.**_

_Warning: much angstier than my usual fare._

* * *

**Goodbye Love**

So far, the breakup was not going at all how Seamus had planned.

"Let me see it," Lavender demanded, holding out her hand.

He frowned, trying to make sense of her request. "See what?"

"That speech your mum wrote for you!" Lavender shouted. "Everything you've just said to me—it's all _her_!"

"Me mam didn't write any sort of speech!" Seamus shot back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "This wasn't even her idea!"

The lie hung heavy in the air between them. Lavender sighed quietly, pulling a curtain of brown hair across her scarred face.

"You think I haven't noticed her disapproval, Seamus? You think I haven't seen the way she shudders when she looks at my scars?"

"She doesn't—" he began.

"She _does_!" Lavender cried. "And you know what? I get it. I really do. But I thought you were the one person I could count on to love me in spite of my condition."

Seamus hung his head, ashamed. He did love Lavender, truly, but his mam...he couldn't go against her wishes, even if he was a grown man now. She had raised him alone after his father walked out, working multiple jobs and making more sacrifices than Seamus could even fathom. She meant everything to him, and if the fact that Lavender was an unemployed werewolf was a problem for her, then it was a problem for him, too.

"I'm sorry, Lav," he said hoarsely, finally looking back up at her. He flinched at the pain in her hazel eyes. He had known this would hurt her, but he hadn't realized just how much. "I never meant for things to end like this—"

Lavender laughed mirthlessly. "Save it, Seamus. Maybe you didn't _mean_ for it to happen this way, but it did. It did...and now _I_ have to live with it."

As Seamus watched, all of the energy seemed to drain out of her and she slumped against a wall for support.

"Why was I not good enough for you?" she asked.

"It's not that," Seamus hurried to explain. "It's just...we wouldn't be able to have a family, and I'd have to support you completely. What kind of life would that be?"

"One where we're together," she said simply.

"I know, but...I can't. I don't want that for myself," Seamus said, hating himself for twisting the knife further into her heart. In that moment, he knew — he was ten times the monster she would ever be.

"Just go, then," she whispered, as a single tear fell onto the carpeted floor.

Seamus reached for her, but she shrank away. "I'm sorry," he said again, letting his hand fall back to his side. He was saying it more for his own benefit than hers — he knew it wouldn't even come close to fixing the damage he had wrought.

Lavender was crying silently now, and Seamus took that as his cue to leave before he caused any further distress.

"I'll stay in touch," he said lamely, though Lavender surely knew that was a lie, too. "Take—take care, Lav."

She didn't respond to that, but he hadn't expected her to. He gave her one final look before turning and walking out of her flat for the last time. As he Disapparated back to his own place, he tried to console himself by imagining how his mam would react to the news. She was going to be so proud of him.

* * *

Word count: 575

_A/N: I came up with the idea for this after thinking about how quick Seamus was to not believe Harry in OotP. Granted, at that time he was 14 or so, and he's older here, but I liked the idea that he was really close to his mother and wanted to take her side in things. Also, it doesn't mention it within the story, but I imagine Lavender shares the flat with a roommate (maybe Parvati?), because she wouldn't be able to afford it on her own. _


	28. FredAngelina

_I'm supposed to be writing George/Angelina for Inktober, but Anna prompted this. :p_

* * *

**Under the Stars**

"I could lay out here all night," Angelina said, glancing over at Fred, who was reclining on his elbows about an arm's length away. Darkness had settled around them — she could only just make out his vivid red hair.

"Me too," he agreed, his head tilted up towards the starry sky.

Angelina looked up again, too, admiring the way the stars twinkled against their inky black backdrop. She had never taken the time to enjoy the constellations — Astronomy had always felt like more of a chore than anything — but here, with Fred, she wished that she could point out every cluster by name.

She shifted a little on the thick crimson blanket. "I'm sorry I don't know most of these constellations."

Fred laughed. "I don't really care about the constellations, Angie."

"No?" She risked another peek at him, but this time, he caught her looking and her face warmed with embarrassment.

"I mean, they're nice and all, but what I'm really enjoying is being here with you," he said. Angelina felt her breath hitch.

"Yeah, this is really fun, Fred," she said, hoping that she sounded casual. Internally, she was attempting to dissect the meaning of what he had just said. Was he merely implying that he liked spending time with her, or was there something more to it? Returning her attention to the heavens, she asked, "Do you remember what Cassiopeia looks like?"

"You know full well I was rubbish at Astronomy," Fred snorted.

"Yeah, well, I thought maybe you would have studied up on it. You know, to impress me." It had been a bold thing to say, but hearing Fred chuckle in response made her feel like she was on top of the world.

"I should have," he said, his voice husky.

Suddenly, Angelina was aware of the fact that he was closer to her than he had been before, and she resisted the urge to gaze at him yet again. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the sky, she said lightly, "I agree."

The next moment, she felt Fred scoot so close to her so that their arms were touching, and this time, she couldn't help but look over.

"Hi," he said, and she let out a nervous giggle that she immediately wished she could take back. It was just Fred, for Merlin's sake. He was one of her best friends. So what if she had fancied him for a while now? She hadn't wanted to make things awkward between them, and now she was doing just that.

"Hi yourself," she finally replied. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw him roll his eyes.

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

Angelina's heart started to race. "What do you mean?" she managed. She figured she might as well be direct — she didn't like the thought of continuing to dance around whatever it was that he wasn't saying outright.

Fred propped himself up on his left arm. "Come on, Angie. I invited you to go stargazing with me —just the two of us— and you didn't, I don't know, think that was a date?"

"I didn't want to get my hopes up," she confessed.

"George thought it would be romantic," he continued, then stopped. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"I didn't want to get my hopes up," she repeated, grinning. Fred returned her feelings! She could hardly believe it.

"Say that one more time?" Fred teased. "I just want to make sure I didn't hallucinate that twice."

She swatted his arm playfully. "Prat."

"But I'm _your_ prat," he said smoothly. "That is, if you'll have me."

"Hmmm, let me think about that for a moment," she said. She pulled her face into a look of deep concentration.

"The sooner you admit you can't resist me, the sooner I can kiss you," he told her. She didn't think that she was imagining the desire coloring his cocky words.

"Well, in that case...I admit it. I can't resist you," she giggled. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him, savoring the moment when their lips met. Forget gazing at the stars all night. This..._this_ she could do forever.

* * *

Word count: 701


	29. HarryHermione

_This is sort of a Muggle!AU, Actor!AU, and Online Dating!AU (that last one might be a stretch) all rolled into one. :p_

* * *

**ScarBoy01 and BrainyBookworm555**

Today was the day. The day Hermione would be meeting ScarBoy01.

She was, understandably, quite apprehensive about the prospect of meeting someone she had only talked to online, but they had been chatting for nearly two years, and after many failed attempts to meet up, had finally locked down a time and place.

She arrived at the chosen venue early to scope out the place and to ensure that she knew where the exits were (just in case). It was a cozy little pub, which wouldn't have been her first choice, but Harry hadn't seemed interested in meeting at the library or even at a restaurant. Maybe he wanted to be able to make a quick escape if he needed, and a meal would have hindered that.

She shook her head, trying to clear the negative thoughts away. ScarBoy (he refused to give her his real name, but Hermione hadn't given hers either — he knew her only as BrainyBookworm555) seemed too polite to do something so cruel. Granted, it was easy for people to lie about who they were online, but Hermione considered herself a good judge of character, and two years seemed like a long time to pretend to be someone else.

Well, as it turned out, she was only right on one of those counts.

...

_"You're_ ScarBoy01?" Hermione struggled to pick her jaw up off the floor. "But you're—you're Harry Potter!"

The dark-haired, bespectacled man sitting across from her nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"God, I feel like such an idiot. No wonder you didn't want to give me your name." Hermione's shock quickly became anger. "You've kept a lie up for nearly two years! How do you sleep at night?"

"With a very comfy pillow," Harry joked. When she glared at him, he added, "Sorry. Did you want something to drink, a beer, maybe?"

"No, thank you. I don't drink alcohol," she sniffed. "Alcohol is for people who can afford to lose a few brain cells."

"Guess that explains a lot about me, eh?" Harry chuckled. He signalled to the bartender and asked for a beer, which was poured for him immediately.

"It's on the house," the bartender said, clapping him on the arm.

"Cheers, mate," Harry said, lifting his glass.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "They give you free drinks here?"

"They give me free drinks anywhere," he said with a smile. "That's kind of what happens when you're a famous actor."

Hermione folded her arms tightly against her chest. "Don't ask me if I've seen your movies. I refuse to entertain such egotistical nonsense."

"I wasn't—" Harry began, but he was quickly interrupted by a loud squeal.

"Oh my God, it's Harry Potter!"

The voice belonged to a brunette who threw herself unabashedly at Harry as soon as she was close enough to do so.

"Hi, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane, and I'm a _huge_ fan of your work," she said, gazing adoringly up at him. "Can I say, it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you."

"Oh, is that what you're doing?" Hermione asked dryly. "It rather looks like you're trying to sit in his lap."

Romilda shot Hermione a nasty look while Harry blushed. "Ron!" he said to the redheaded man sitting a few stools down. "Do you mind?"

Ron popped up from his seat and nodded. "Come with me, miss," he told Romilda.

Romilda didn't go quietly, but finally, Ron managed to wrestle her away and Hermione and Harry were left alone once more. Well, aside from Ron, who was apparently Harry's bodyguard.

"Sorry about that," Harry said sheepishly. He appeared to be trying to flatten his hair with his fingers, although whether it was for her benefit or merely a nervous habit, Hermione wasn't sure.

She waved a hand. "I suppose I'd better get used to it."

...

Just as Hermione predicted, Romilda was not the last person to accost Harry or invade his personal space. Hermione began to feel rather sorry for the man. No wonder he had taken to finding conversation online, where no one knew who he was. She suspected that most people only talked to him because they wanted in on his fame and fortune.

Ron dealt with the nosy patrons with ease, leaving Harry and Hermione free to talk and eat Shepherd's pie. As the evening progressed, Hermione began to forget who she was with. It was just like she was back home on her computer, typing out messages to ScarBoy01. Harry was funny, forthcoming, and more than a little self-deprecating. Hermione especially enjoyed hearing about the process of making movies from an actor's viewpoint and learning more about where Harry took inspiration from.

After some time, Hermione became aware of a curly-haired blonde watching them intently. She felt uncomfortable, but as the woman technically wasn't doing anything wrong, she didn't want to say anything to Harry or Ron and cause a scene.

Finally, however, the woman decided to approach them instead.

"Harry, darling!" she cried.

"Rita Skeeter," Harry said through clenched teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"Just keeping tabs on your love life, sweetheart." She leaned in closer and whispered, "Did you miss me?"

He shuddered. "Go to hell."

"Oh, I've been there, thank you," she said, her smile revealing pointy teeth. "I found it quite lovely. Now, who is your _charming_ companion this evening?"

By now, Ron had appeared at Harry's side. "Miss Skeeter, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave Harry alone."

"That's quite all right," she said loftily. She made a shooing motion towards Ron, and Hermione caught a glimpse of neon green nails. "I got what I came for."

Once she had departed, Hermione looked between Harry and Ron. "'Got what she came for?' What did she mean?"

Harry let out a deep sigh. "That's Rita Skeeter. She's a...gossip reporter, of sorts. I imagine our little rendezvous will make the front page of the Prophet tomorrow thanks to her."

"Oh," Hermione said faintly. It hadn't even occurred to her that people might be interested in that sort of rubbish. "I'm sorry."

Harry's look was puzzled as he asked, "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault she's a total cow."

Hermione laughed. "I suppose not. But I'm sure it must be very embarrassing for you."

"I'm used to it," Harry said with a shrug. "Besides, there are worse people I could have been spotted with."

"At least there's a silver lining," Hermione said with a smile.

Harry grinned back, his green eyes sparkling. "Most definitely. I'm so glad we finally got to do this. I really like you, Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "I really like you, too."

...

All in all, Hermione quite enjoyed her date with Harry, and was glad that she had taken a leap of faith in meeting him. Though he didn't share her love for reading, she supposed she might be able to see past that. She definitely wanted to see him again, if only to make sure that the night hadn't been a fluke.

He walked her up to the door of her flat and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry." Her heart was racing — she couldn't believe a chaste kiss had made her feel so warm inside.

As soon as he was gone, she suddenly thought to check for paparazzi, but to her relief, she didn't see anyone suspicious hanging around. Once inside the flat, she went straight to her bedroom and changed into her nightclothes. After brushing her teeth, she returned to her room and sank onto the bed, exhausted.

She glanced at her mobile and sighed. It felt too soon to text him and tell him she'd had a wonderful time, but he deserved to know.

_Harry, thanks for a lovely night_

_x Hermione_

She read it over once, nodded, and hit send.

She fell asleep before she could see his reply.

_Hope 2 do it again soon!_

_x Harry_

* * *

Word count: 1,327


	30. PadmaSeamus

**Take a Chance on Me**

"Padma! Oi, Padma!"

Padma turned and found herself almost face-to-face with an out of breath Seamus Finnegan.

"There you are," he panted. "Been looking everywhere for you."

Padma nodded to Sue Li. "You can go ahead. This should only take a minute."

Her friend looked bewildered, but continued towards the Transfiguration classroom alone.

Padma faced Seamus once more. "Are you looking for Parvati?" She couldn't think of any reason why the Gryffindor would seek her out, unless he thought she knew where her twin was.

"No," he said, looking at her strangely. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh." She hugged her books closer to her chest and tried not to let her confusion show. "All right, then."

"Erm, I was wondering if you'd want to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Of all the things Padma had imagined he might ask, that had not been one of them. She blushed and tried to compose a polite reply. "I—I wasn't really planning on going. Thanks for asking me, though," she added quickly. She hardly ever went to Hogsmeade if she could help it, preferring to spend time in the library or Ravenclaw tower.

To her surprise, Seamus seemed rather disappointed. "That's too bad," he said. "I had some fun stuff planned out for us to do."

She could hardly believe her ears. He made it sound like he was asking her out on a serious date, which was silly because she barely knew him and she didn't _think_ he knew much about her, unless—

"Have you been talking to Parvati about me?" she asked, hoping against hope that his answer would be "no."

"I—yeah, a little," he admitted, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair.

Padma shook her head. Parvati never could resist interfering with her love life, such as it was.

"Well, I hope she didn't give you the impression that I would say yes," she said stiffly, making a mental note to have a word with her sister later. "I hardly know you, Finnegan."

"Right, but isn't that what dates are for? Getting to know each other?" Seamus persisted.

She sighed and looked him over. His shirt was untucked and his hair was a bit long and unkempt. And he was a Gryffindor. Padma didn't have anything against Gryffindors, but they weren't exactly her type.

"I suppose so," she answered carefully, "but I have rather a lot of work to do this weekend. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Maybe next time, then?" He sounded so hopeful.

"Maybe." Padma knew that she was just delaying the inevitable, however, and tried to summon some of that famed Gryffindor courage. "Erm, actually... probably not. I'm not sure we'd be compatible."

"Right." Seamus looked positively crestfallen now, and Padma couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "Look, I'm not like Parvati. I'm not fun and outgoing and I am _especially_ not as flirty. I suggest you ask her out instead."

"Padma," he said earnestly, "just hear me out. I think we could be good together. Parvati says you're shy — maybe I could help you be a little more social or something. And maybe you could help me be a better student. Your sister is great and all, but we're so similar that I can't see it working out for long."

Padma thought for a moment. Perhaps he was right — she _did _need someone a little more daring to pull her out of her comfort zone sometimes, and she couldn't always rely on Parvati for that. "All right, Finnegan," she conceded. "We can start as friends and see where it goes."

"Wicked!" he said, grinning widely. "_You_ can start by calling me Seamus."

The corners of Padma's mouth twisted up ever so slightly. "All right, _Seamus_."

* * *

Word count: 641


	31. GinnyLuna

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo:** D3 (spelunking)

**Word count:** 400

* * *

**A Spelunking We Will Go**

"Thanks for agreeing to do this with me," Luna told Ginny. She raised her camera to snap yet another picture. "These caves are quite remarkable."

Ginny pushed a strand of hair away from her face and nodded. "It was no problem, Luna." She meant that, too. Spelunking was her biggest hobby, and she had been delighted when her girlfriend had suggested that they explore a few caves together. Luna had recently discovered photography and wanted to experiment with taking pictures in environments with low lighting.

So far, their trek had been slow but steady as they ventured through the maze of caves. They had to move carefully to avoid disturbing the fragile ecosystems — as well as any potentially slippery areas — but Ginny was used to that. Luna had also stopped numerous times to exclaim over interesting features and the occasional bat, which Ginny was not used to but found quite amusing.

"Would you like a snack, love?" the redhead asked, remembering the crisps she had packed that morning.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you," Luna replied, her eye glued to her viewfinder. "I simply cannot stop to eat when there are so many wonders to behold! I can see why you enjoy caving so much."

Ginny smiled. "I'm so glad I could share this with you. You're really in your element here."

"You say that every time you watch me take pictures, you know," Luna said mildly, still clicking away.

"I know, but it's tru—careful, Luna!" Ginny's voice was sharp as she gave her warning. She had just noticed that Luna was standing particularly close to a massive stalactite. The last thing she wanted was for the other woman to bump into it.

Luna stopped and looked at Ginny. Her large, silver eyes were illuminated by the light of Ginny's headlamp, giving them an eerie glow. "What's wrong?"

"Stalactite at two o'clock," Ginny said tersely.

Luna slowly turned and let out a gasp. "Oh, it's glorious!" She pointed her camera at the formation, no doubt ready to take another slew of pictures.

Ginny shook her head, but she had a fond expression on her face. "Something tells me we're going to be here a while."

Luna's back was to her as she asked, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," Ginny answered truthfully. She could watch Luna work all day and not grow bored. "Not at all."


	32. JamesLily

_Note: this is very much an AU in the sense that the timeline of James and Lily's relationship is a bit off. Also, I don't really know how to write these two at this stage in their lives, oops. Also also... I've never actually watched Carrie. _

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo: **B1 (fruits/vegetables)

**Word count: **954

* * *

**Horror Movie Night**

Lily was just putting the finishing touches on the fruit and vegetable tray she had made up when the doorbell rang. She hurried to get the door, smoothing down her hair as she did so.

"James!" She smiled at the dark-haired man standing on her doorstep. "Glad you could make it."

"As if I'd miss a chance to spend time with you, Lils," he said, messing up his hair in typical James fashion. It was true that they had been spending a lot of time together lately, even more than they had during their final year at Hogwarts. "So...what did you have planned?"

"Well," Lilly said, leading him into the living room and gesturing vaguely to the couch, "I thought we could watch a movie."

James's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. " A movie? Like the Muggle entertainment?" At Lily's nod, he punched his fist into the air. "_Yes_! What're we watching?"

Lily flashed him a devious grin. After all the pranks he and his mates had pulled on her — which she later found out were desperate bids for her attention — she was only too happy to get her revenge. "Oh, just a little film called 'Carrie.'"

James was clearly not fooled by her innocent tone, if the way he narrowed his green eyes at her was any indication. "Yeah? What's it about?"

"A young girl struggling to make friends and fit in," Lily replied, looking him dead in the eye.

James grinned and stretched out his legs. "So... it's about you?"

Lily threw a couch pillow at him. "I had plenty of friends at Hogwarts, thank you very much!"

James laughed. "Kidding, Lils." He looked around as Lily moved towards the television. "No popcorn? Isn't that what the Muggles eat when they watch movies?"

"I'm thrilled to discover that you actually paid attention during Muggle Studies," Lily said dryly, "but no, there is no popcorn. I made up a lovely fruit and veggie tray. Much healthier."

James looked at the carrots, celery, grapes and strawberries that she had spent half an hour cutting up and arranging, and wrinkled his nose. "If you say so."

Lily grabbed the remote and plopped down next to him on the couch. "I _do_ say so." She kissed him briefly before pressing play and settling back against the cushions.

...

James Potter was many things, but a boring movie companion was not one of them. He gasped and groaned in all the right places, and spent the rest of the time making comments that would have annoyed Lily if she hadn't seen the film before.

"James," she giggled, "you don't need to keep mentioning how much you hate the mum. I agree that she's really horrible."

"Good," James said, cuddling up to her, "because I am convinced that she is insane. This won't end well, I guarantee it."

Lily laughed and nibbled on a strawberry. She noticed that James seemed to enjoy the grapes the most — there were only a few left. She made a mental note to stock up on them for the next time he came over.

...

When the iconic prom scene happened, James all but lept out of his seat, shouting, "Serves them right!" at the screen. Lily grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"It isn't real, James," she reminded him gently. "And besides, you were blocking my view."

"Oh, sorry, Lils."

...

"What'd you think of the movie?" Lily asked as soon as the credits began to roll. She couldn't help but smirk at the slightly horrified look on James's face.

"That was..." he gulped, "...dramatic. I thought you said this was about a young girl trying to make friends!"

Lily snorted, but quickly pasted a look of innocence onto her face. "I mean, it _was_, wasn't it?"

James ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, in a roundabout kind of way, I guess. I can't believe Carrie killed all those kids!"

"Can you blame her?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I suppose not." James shuddered. "Merlin, she kind of reminded me of...Snape, actually."

Lily drew in a sharp breath. "Oh?" she said as casually as she could. Just the mere mention of her former friend's name made her feel sick.

"Yeah. He was always kind of...an oddball, wasn't he? I could see him losing it like Carrie did."

Lily grabbed a piece of celery and shoved it into her mouth so that she wouldn't have to respond. If she was being honest, she understood why James would think that, but it wasn't a topic she particularly wanted to dwell on. Thankfully, James seemed to realize that he'd said something amiss and immediately offered to help clean up.

Lily waved him off. "It's fine, James. It'll only take me a few minutes to do myself."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She smiled at him. "It's late, you'll want to be getting home."

"I suppose," he said with a shrug, "but it doesn't feel much like home without you."

Lily blushed. "That's very sweet of you to say—"

"I'm serious, Lily." James stared down at her, his eyes smoldering. The intensity of his gaze made her heart pound. "I just want to be...with you. Wherever you are."

"I'm sure that could be arranged," she whispered, rising up onto her toes to press their lips together. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her back.

"So you'll move in with me, then?" he asked moments later, when they had finally broken apart. He sounded breathless and a tiny bit insecure. That wasn't like him at all, and Lily found herself wanting to reassure him right away.

"Yes," she said quickly. "Yes, of course I'll move in with you."


	33. RonHermione

**Ron's Lucky Day**

"Today is going to be a lucky day," Ron announced.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Why's that?"

"I found a Knut on the ground when I went outside to fetch the paper," he said excitedly.

Hermione laughed. "What, you think you'll be lucky today because you found money on the ground? That's a ridiculous superstition, Ron. It's just a bunch of hocus-pocus."

"Nah." Ron was confident that his wife was wrong. "Today _will_ be a lucky day, just you wait and see, 'Mione."

...

By the time Ron got to work, he was even more convinced that he was going to have a successful day. There hadn't been any delays getting to the Ministry, and going through security took barely any time at all. Granted, he had left a quarter of an hour earlier than usual, but that had clearly been as a result of picking up the coin outside. It had to be be.

"All right there, Ron?" Harry asked, nudging him.

Ron grinned and took a sip of coffee. "I've never been better."

...

By lunchtime, Ron's day was going so well that he couldn't wait to tell Hermione all about it. So far, Harry had given him some candy that he didn't want, his sister had called and offered him tickets to one of her games that Saturday evening, and he had filled out a record amount of paperwork. Individually, those things might not have seemed like much, but together, Ron was certain they added up to luck.

"Got any plans for this weekend?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to watch my sister's football game," he answered proudly.

"You've earned it. Excellent work today."

_Excellent work indeed_, thought Ron.

...

Ron headed home with a spring in his step, unable to believe just how good his day had been.

"Hermione," he panted as he burst through the front door, "you won't _believe_ the day I've just had."

"Oh?" His wife sounded more skeptical than he would have liked.

"Yes!" He proceeded to tell her about all of the lucky things that had happened to him over the course of his work day.

Hermione sighed. "Do you really still think this all has to do with that Knut you found this morning?"

"Of course," Ron insisted. "There's no other explanation, Hermione!"

"Yes, there is." Hermione crossed her arms. "It's all just chance, Ron! It had _nothing_ to do with being lucky!"

Ron rubbed his temples. He loved his wife, but sometimes when she was convinced that she was right, she refused to look at any evidence to the contrary. It was tiring. "Alright, 'Mione," he said as patiently as he could, "you are free to think that if you would like. You're wrong, but it's up to you."

Hermione scoffed, a sure sign that she was well on her way to annoyed. "I am _not_ wrong!"

Ron held up his hands. "Fine." He didn't want a fight, not after the day he'd just had. "You're not wrong. But today was still a really good day and you're not going to take that away from me."

"Fine." Hermione turned away with her nose in the air. It might have been endearing if Ron hadn't been so irritated with her. "I'm off to start dinner."

...

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Ron." Hermione turned a page in her book and continued to read.

"No, it isn't." Ron leaned over and plucked the book from her grasp. "I know you don't believe in superstitious stuff, but I do, and I just wish you could...let me do that."

"It defies all logic!" Hermione exclaimed. "Why would you _want_ to believe in it, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't really have a good answer for her, much as he wished he did. "Because it makes me feel better? I dunno, 'Mione, it's always been...comforting to me, somehow."

His wife's gaze softened. "It does?"

"Yeah." Ron played with the sheet absent-mindedly, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well, then I'm sorry too," Hermione said softly.

Surprised, he snapped his head up to look at her. "You are?"

She smiled. "If it brings you comfort, who am I to argue?"

Ron leaned over and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too." Hermione grabbed her book as she pulled away. "Now, can I please get back to reading?"

He rolled his eyes. Some things would never change.

* * *

Word count: 730

_A/N: I feel like I always end up highlighting why these two shouldn't really be together when I write them, lol. _


	34. HermioneNeville

**Saving the World, One Potion at a Time**

"Hermione," Neville whispered, his voice urgent. "Can you help me?" He stared woefully down at his cauldron. His Pepper-Up potion was purple instead of the requisite orange.

Hermione scurried over. Her eyes widened as she looked at Neville's concoction. "How many pinches of Bicorn Horn did you add, Neville?"

He bit his lip. "Erm, one, I think? I don't—I don't remember," he said miserably.

She shook her head, causing her bushy hair to appear even bushier. "You were supposed to add two pinches," she told him, not unkindly.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape drawled from just behind them, "I will have to ask you to keep an eye on your own cauldron. Mr. Longbottom is clearly beyond help, and if your potion suffers because of his ineptitude, I will not be merciful."

Neville hung his head and blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. Though he was used to the Potion Master's cruel nature, the thought of Hermione's grade suffering because of him was too much to bear. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't want you to fail because of me."

Hermione squeezed his arm gently. "Just add another pinch of Bicorn Horn and see what that does. I'll be back in a moment."

Neville watched as she hurried away. He was so grateful that she was willing to help him, even at risk of ruining her own potion. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming Yule Ball. He wasn't so naive as to hope that she fancied him, but maybe she liked him enough to go with him as friends.

She returned a minute later, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "All right," she said briskly, peering into his cauldron once more. The potion was now a bright teal. "I suppose you should heat it a little longer. Five seconds should do it."

Neville did as she said, holding his breath as he did so. His brew turned orange — a little on the pale side, but he would take it.

"Congratulations, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Snape sneered. "Thanks to Miss Granger's meddling, you now have a perfectly average potion. However, you still have the second part to screw up, and I have no doubt that you will."

"Well done, Neville!" Hermione whispered.

He flushed. It was now or never. "H—Hermione?"

"Yes?" She looked at him expectantly, and he swallowed nervously.

"Would you—do you want to go to the ball with me?" he said quickly.

Her face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, Neville. I'm already going with...someone." She glanced over at Harry and Ron as she said this, but her friends were too focused on their own cauldrons to hear her.

"That's fine," Neville muttered, training his gaze on his feet. "I hope you have fun."

Hermione's smile seemed almost pitying. "You'll find someone to go with, don't worry. Maybe you can ask a third year? Not many of them are going, so you'll have your pick."

Neville nodded and turned back to his potion. He was disappointed that Hermione had turned him down, but glad that someone else had noticed her brilliance, though that someone clearly hadn't been Harry or Ron. He would worry about his own date later. For now, he had a potion to concentrate on.

* * *

Word count: 540


	35. ErnieJustin

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 8: __**History of Magic, Task #1: write about a pairing made from two people of different blood purity.**_

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team):** Ernie Macmillan/Justin Finch-Fletchley (n/a)

**List (Prompt):** Summer Big List (Chess)

**Word Count:** 1,033

* * *

**can we always be this close?**

Justin smiled at the look of intense concentration on Ernie's face. His boyfriend was hunched over a chess board, muttering under his breath so quickly that Justin couldn't make out any of the words. Ernie's opponent, Hannah, was anxiously twisting a blonde pigtail around her finger as her gaze darted around the board. After a moment, she shakily directed her white rook to move forward three spaces.

"Ah, bad luck, Hannah," Ernie said sympathetically, directing his black knight to the very same space. Justin watched, as amazed as he had been the first time he had watched a game of wizard's cheese, as Ernie's knight smashed Hannah's rook into tiny slivers of marble. Hannah winced.

"So violent," she said, shaking her head. Justin privately agreed.

"That's wizard's chess for you," Ernie replied, unperturbed.

"Yeah, but some of us didn't grow up playing this particular version of chess," Justin pointed out gently.

Ernie sniffed. "I still can't believe you have to move the pieces _yourself_ on a Muggle chessboard."

Justin caught Hannah's eye and stifled a laugh. She knew as well as he did how pompous Ernie could be sometimes.

A few minutes later, Ernie crowed, "Checkmate!"

Hannah groaned goodnaturedly. "Good game, Ernie." She patted his shoulder, then stood and nodded at the two boys. "I'm off to bed. Goodnight, Justin, Ernie."

"'Night, Hannah," they responded in unison.

When she had left, Ernie turned to Justin and raised a blond eyebrow. "So, how about it, Justin? You up for a game?"

"Oh, no," Justin protested, holding up his hands. Ernie was the undisputed wizard's chess champion among their circle of friends, and indeed, probably all of Hufflepuff house. Justin was definitely not stupid enough to willingly play him. He could barely even play _Muggle_ chess properly. His dad had taught him over the Christmas holidays his first year — after he had come home exclaiming about the magical game — but he lacked the ability to strategize, something that his boyfriend had spent hours refining and perfecting.

Ernie pouted. "Come on, just one game?"

Justin sighed. It was never "just one game" with Ernie. The other boy always insisted on a post-game recap, where he would point out every mistake his opponent had made and how they could have avoided it. Then, he would demand that they play him _again_, to see if they had learned from their blunders. Often, he would repeat this cycle several times, and his opponent would find themselves wondering why they had even agreed to play him in the first place. Ernie's behavior would have been almost endearing to Justin had he not been that opponent many, many times before.

His boyfriend poked his lip out even further. Justin couldn't help but laugh at the exaggerated expression. "Fine," he said, dragging the word out longer than was strictly necessary. "But you owe me."

Ernie's eyes lit up. "Yes! I promise, after this, we'll do whatever you want."

Justin was already cooking up ways to make Ernie regret saying that. "I'll be black, if you want," he offered.

Ernie waved a hand. "Nah, I'll take black. Give you that first-turn advantage."

Justin snorted. Supposedly there was an advantage to having the first move, but against a chess master like Ernie, that handicap was useless. "You know that isn't going to help me, Ern."

Ernie grinned. "Yeah, I do."

...

Half an hour later, Justin unsurprisingly found himself conceding defeat. By now, the common room was deserted — it was past midnight so everyone else had gone to bed. He rubbed his eyes. "Good game, Ern."

Ernie puffed out his chest and beamed, as proud as Justin imagined he must have been after winning his very first chess game. "You played well, Justin, but—"

"Uh-uh." Justin shook his head. "We're not doing this. You said we would play _one_ game, Ern. _One_."

"I know what I said, but—"

"Ernie, look at me." Ernie did, his hazel eyes glinting by the light of the common room fire. "We played one game, and now we're done, okay? So there's no need for you to break down everything I did wrong."

"Fine," his boyfriend grumbled.

Justin moved onto the couch next to him and took his hand. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Of course not!" he sputtered.

With a grin, Justin said, "Good, because you said we could do whatever _I _wanted now."

Ernie ran a hand through his hair, looking apprehensive. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Oh, just a few rounds of Exploding Snap," Justin said casually. He had to resist the urge to chuckle at the horrified look on his boyfriend's face. Ernie was _not_ a fan of Exploding Snap because he couldn't plan ahead — he never knew when the cards might spontaneously combust. "You promised," he reminded him cheekily.

"You're lucky I like you," Ernie said with a roll of his eyes.

"You're lucky I like you too," Justin countered, leaning over to peck his cheek. Ernie turned his head at the last second and Justin caught his lips instead. "Even when you do sneaky things like that," he said as he pulled away.

"Who are you calling sneaky?" Ernie responded. "You're the one who tricked me into playing Exploding Snap with you!"

Justin laughed. Sure, Ernie could be pompous and bossy, and maybe he didn't _entirely_ understand Muggle chess, but Justin couldn't imagine life at Hogwarts without him.

...

The two soon settled into a round of the unpredictable card game, and after a while, the sounds of Ernie cursing and Justin snickering filled the empty room.

"Alright, you win," Ernie finally said, throwing down his cards with a yawn.

Justin yawned too. "Ah, sweet victory!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Ernie huffed.

"Dramatic? _Me_?" Justin asked innocently.

"Touché." Ernie got to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed. I'm knackered."

Justin let the other boy pull him off the couch and into his arms. He stood there for a moment, savoring the sensation of Ernie's arms around him. It brought him a kind of comfort that nothing else could. "Love you, Ern," he murmured.

Ernie dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "Love you too, Justin."


	36. RegulusMarlene

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team):** Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon

**List (Prompt):** Summer Big List (First Date)

**Word Count:** 635

* * *

**Here's How It Starts**

Regulus shakes out the red-and-white checkered picnic blanket and settles it carefully onto the grass. He smiles over at Marlene then gestures to it. "Ladies first."

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead, I suppose," she says with a roll of her eyes. She plops onto the blanket anyway, though.

"I _was _raised with proper etiquette," Regulus replies, arching a single brow.

"So it's safe to assume you _don't_ want any help setting up?" Marlene asks, a tiny smirk playing at her lips.

"Precisely. You just sit there and relax," he tells her. His hand gently brushes the top of her head, and a chill runs through her. She wonders if he felt a similar sensation when he touched her.

She watches as he sets about unpacking the picnic basket. He moves with a sort of aristocratic grace that has to come from years of lessons and subsequent practice. It's that swiftness and precision, along with his slight build, that makes him such a good Seeker.

She studies his features next. He projects a classic kind of handsomeness, much different from the unconventional, roguish appeal of his brother. His dark, wavy hair is just long enough to fall into his eyes, and his nose and mouth are almost dainty — again, a result of his noble heritage.

He's good-looking, yes, but Marlene still doesn't know why she agreed to go on a date with him. She supposes she was motivated by curiosity more than anything. Regulus Black is aloof, an enigma — unlike Sirius, he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

"Nice weather," she comments, just as Regulus finishes unwrapping two sandwiches. He doesn't respond to that — not that she blames him, because who thinks talking about the fucking _weather_ is romantic? — and hands her a sandwich. She immediately takes a bite, savoring the mingling flavors of the meat and cheese. He looks slightly taken aback by her rush to eat, so she swallows and says, "What? I'm starving."

Regulus shakes his head. "Nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," she insists, carefully putting her sandwich down on a white china plate. Why he packed _china plates_ for a picnic, she has no idea. "Look, I haven't eaten since breakfast, so I—"

"You just look so beautiful."

It takes Marlene a moment to process those words, but once she does, she stares at Regulus as though seeing him for the first time. He looks rather shocked himself, although she doesn't understand why.

"I—I beg your pardon?" she asks, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear because obviously, her _hair_ is the reason she didn't hear him properly the first time. There's no way _Regulus fucking Black_ would ever call her beautiful without hesitation.

Regulus repeats those same words, and suddenly, Marlene feels like she's underwater and all the sounds are muffled. Her heart is pounding so loudly in her ears that she can't focus on anything else, not even her hunger. Her sandwich lies forgotten on its plate.

She doesn't know what to say in response. "Thank you" seems too obvious, and too safe. She should say something flirty and clever and fun, but with Regulus' grey eyes fixed expectantly on her, all that comes out is, "You're beautiful too."

Regulus starts to laugh, and Marlene can't help but want to make him laugh again. "You amuse me, Marlene."

This time, she does say, "Thank you," and the grin that he sends her way is enough to make her feel giddy.

After a moment spent gazing at her like she is the only thing in the world, he nods at her plate. "I thought you were hungry."

Now that she's a little more relaxed, her hunger makes itself known again. She wraps her fingers around her sandwich and smiles at her companion. "I am."

* * *

_A/N: I was challenged to write someone else's OTP and this is what came about. It's hard writing for two characters that are virtual blank slates, but I tried._


	37. KingsleyHarry

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 10: __**Magical Literature, Task #2: write a story set in St. Mungo's or the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. **_

_Word count: 476_

_Warning for large age gap._

* * *

**A Tempting Offer**

Kingsley paced the length of the private room in St. Mungo's, fuming. The occupant of the sole hospital bed followed his trajectory with brilliant green eyes.

"Harry," Kingsley growled suddenly, whipping around to face the other man, "why is it that I am _always_ saving your arse?"

"Because you want my arse to stay in one piece?" Harry suggested with a smirk that made Kingsley's thoughts drift towards the inappropriate. "Don't lie, Kings, I've seen you staring."

Kingsley ran a hand over his bald head and groaned. If worrying about Harry wasn't going to kill him, the flirting surely was. "I have never _once_ stared at your arse, Harry, trust me."

"I do trust you," Harry said lightly. "That's why I'm always putting myself into situations where you'll have to save me."

Kingsley sat down heavily. "Harry..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I'm too young to be flirting with you, yadda yadda yadda."

"So you _have_ been listening to me? Good."

"C'mon, Kings—"

"Kings_ley_," he corrected swiftly.

"C'mon, Kings_ley_, give me a little credit, would you?" Harry grinned. He brushed a strand of ink-black hair away from his face without breaking eye contact.

Kingsley folded his arms. "I think you've already given yourself plenty."

"Well, you'll fall for my charm one of these days," Harry said with an air of supreme unconcern.

Kingsley didn't want to tell him that he already had, so he cleared his throat and positioned his chair away from the dark-haired man. "Let's hope that a Healer can examine you soon."

"Oh, right, then you can be on your merry way." The disappointment in Harry's voice made Kingsley glance back over. He looked so small and vulnerable all of a sudden, and Kingsley had to remind himself that despite all Harry had been through, he was still barely a man.

"The Ministry needs me, Harry," he said, keeping his voice gentle.

Harry poked out his bottom lip. "Maybe I need you too," he replied stubbornly.

Kingsley sighed. His next words were difficult to push out. "I can't stay. You know that."

"Can you just sit with me until a Healer comes, then?" Harry pleaded. Kingsley looked into his eyes—those incredible eyes that had featured into so many of his dreams—and felt his resolve weaken.

"I—fine. I can do that," he answered, trying to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach at Harry's delighted smile.

"There's room on my bed if you want to sit somewhere a little comfier," Harry said with a sly wink.

Though the offer was sorely tempting, Kingsley knew that he had to draw the line somewhere. "No, I'm good, thank you." He waved his wand and transformed his hard hospital chair into one with plush cushions. "See? All set."

Harry settled back against his pillows with a scoff. "Way to be a killjoy, Kings."

"Kings_ley_."


	38. ArthurMolly

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 10: __**Magical Literature, Task #12: write about gifts being given or exchanged. **_

_Word count: 502_

* * *

**Christmas 1968**

Arthur bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, eager to give Molly her present. It wasn't quite the Celestina Warbeck tickets she was dying to get her hands on—he couldn't afford those—but he hoped that it might be a worthy substitute.

Molly smiled. "Excited about something, Arthur?"

"Maybe a little," he confessed, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her arms snaked around his lanky form and drew him closer.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the gift you got me, would it?" she teased.

Arthur quickly shook his head, but he was unable to stop a grin from blossoming across his face.

Molly clucked her tongue. "You're a terrible liar, Arthur Weasley," she said, but she didn't sound too disapproving.

Arthur stooped down and picked up a flat package from underneath their little Christmas tree. The tree had been decorated mostly with homemade ornaments, many of which involved bits of yarn from Molly's stash. "I believe this is for you."

The gift was carefully wrapped in pretty silver paper embossed with stars—the salesgirl had offered, and he had known that he'd never be able to do a better job. He watched as Molly tore the paper off quickly and efficiently, somehow managing to keep it relatively unwrinkled.

"Now we can use it for someone else," she said happily, before taking stock of the gift inside. Her eyes grew wide and she let out a little squeal. "Oh, it's Celestina Warbeck's latest album! Arthur, you shouldn't have!"

"Do you like it?" he asked cheekily, knowing full well what her answer would be. Molly made no secret of her obsession with "The Singing Sorceress."

"'Like it?'" she exclaimed. "I _love_ it!" And with that, she hurried over to their record player.

Moments later, "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" was playing, and Molly sashayed around the room a little before picking up a bulky package wrapped in festive green paper. "For you, my cauldron-stirrer," she winked.

Arthur felt his cheeks go red. "Thanks, Molly." He was a bit slower to unwrap his present, and he could tell that Molly was growing impatient by the way she tapped her foot out of sync with the music. "I'm almost there, love," he told her.

He lifted a final flap to reveal a knitted garment of some sort. It was crimson in color, and when he held it up, he realized it was a jumper with a large gold 'A' on the front.

"I made it myself," Molly said proudly. "I had to modify the pattern a little but hopefully it'll look alright."

Arthur responded by tugging the jumper over his head. Molly straightened out both his rumpled hair and the oversized garment, then stood back and eyed him critically. "Yes, I think that works nicely," she declared.

Arthur nodded. It was nice and warm, almost like a hug from Molly herself. "I love it, Molly," he said softly, leaning over to kiss her. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Arthur," Molly whispered back.


	39. BillLavender

_Written for Pairing the Character at Hogwarts. Headlining character was Bill, and I chose to pair him with Lavender. _

* * *

**run away with my heart**

The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley looked beautiful dusted in snow. Lavender fixed her eyes on them rather than on passing shoppers or twinkling fairy lights or even the festive displays in the shop windows. This was her first time being in such a public place since Greyback's attack, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to see the inevitable reactions to the scars that marred her skin. If only she had an Invisibility Cloak...

A large, warm hand grabbed her own, and she lifted her gaze just enough to see Bill smile down at her. Her stomach did a flip, and she found that she couldn't look away. There was just something so magnetic about his confidence—about his willingness to be seen with her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, adjusting her purple scarf so that it covered more of her face.

"Gringotts," he replied. "I need to make a deposit."

Lavender stopped walking. Distress began to cloud her thoughts, seeping into her voice when she spoke. "Gringotts? Bill, that's so far, and there are so many people..." Her protests died at the loving look on Bill's face.

"Lav," he said softly, the affectionate name sending a shiver down her spine, "listen to me. I know you're scared, but I also know that you have come such a long way these past few months. You can do this."

"No, I can't," she whimpered, burying her face in his chest. "I'm not strong like you, Bill."

The sound of Bill's laughter made her look up. "You are the strongest person I know, Lavender Brown," he told her, cupping her cheek with his hand.

"I am?" she said breathlessly.

"You are," he confirmed. He gently rubbed his thumb along one of her scars before leaning forward to capture her lips with his. Lavender wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, forgetting that they were in a crowded shopping area. When they finally broke apart, she was smiling.

"Thank you, Bill." She wasn't just referring to his latest compliment, but to the hours he had spent encouraging her and helping her rebuild her self-confidence. She still had a ways to go, but his support meant the world to her and it always would. There was no way she would be where she was today without him.

"No problem," he said, reaching for her hand again. "Now, come on, we've got places to go and goblins to see."

Lavender giggled, self-consciousness forgotten as her feet began to move once more. "I'm coming."

* * *

Word count: 422


	40. ChoCedric

**Reservation at Madam Puddifoot's**

The Valentine's Day Hogsmeade visit was a big deal—everyone knew that. It was _the_ time to let the rest of the school know who you were dating, have a romantic afternoon, and, if you were lucky, become a hot piece of gossip in the Hogwarts grapevine.

Cho couldn't wait to go with Cedric. He'd asked her a few weeks back, and she had of course said yes. Now, she stood at the entrance to the wizarding village, holding Cedric's hand and beaming proudly as other girls shot her envious looks.

"We should get going," Cedric said, consulting his watch. "We've got a reservation at Madam Puddifoot's for 12:30."

A tall, blonde girl who was walking by sighed wistfully when she heard that.

"Aw, you got us a reservation there, Ced?" Cho asked, pretending to be surprised. She'd had Marietta suggest the arrangements to Cedric so that he wouldn't suspect her hand in it.

Cedric smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I thought it'd be, you know, romantic."

Cho practically skipped all the way to the little tea shop.

...

"Aw, this is adorable!" Cho exclaimed, looking around at the Valentine's decor. There were little cherubs floating around, throwing confetti on the occupants below. Every table was covered in a bright scarlet or fuchsia tablecloth and set with crisp white lacy napkins. A female singer crooned a love ballad in the background. It was all so...perfect.

Cedric was looking around too. "Madam Puddifoot really gets into the holiday spirit here, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yes," Cho replied happily, waving at Madam Puddifoot. The kindly witch directed them to a table near the window, much to Cho's delight. Now anyone who walked by would be able to see her sitting there with Cedric.

Could this day get any more wonderful?

...

"I'm so glad I asked you here, Cho," Cedric said softly.

The pair had been at the tea shop for over an hour, their cups of tea finished long ago. They'd gotten lost in conversation—and in each other's eyes—and Cho didn't want the afternoon to ever end.

"I'm glad too," she responded, tucking a strand of glossy black hair behind her ear. "I've had so much fun."

Cedric leaned forward and Cho, sensing what he was about to do, leaned forward too. She let her eyelids flutter shut just as his lips pressed against hers.

She couldn't help but hope that a big group of girls would see them. That would really be the cherry on top of her best Valentine's Day ever.

* * *

Word count: 419


	41. KatieGeorge

_First fic I've written in quite some time, so I'm probably a little rusty. Had fun returning to this pairing! _

_Based on a prompt from the WWW Facebook group: "Don't go on that date."/"Why?"/"Because it will kill me if you do."_

_Word count: 940_

* * *

**Something More**

The sight of Katie Bell wearing a dress stopped George right in his tracks. Aside from the Yule Ball, he couldn't recall a single time that he had seen her in a dress. She was much more comfortable in tracksuits and oversized Quidditch apparel, as far as he knew.

She hadn't noticed him yet, so he stood in the little hallway leading to the flat's living room and watched as she smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles with her hands. She was nervous about something, he realized. He would just have to find out what.

"Is the world ending?" he teased, striding into the room. He tried not to notice how the shiny black garment hugged her in all the right places. This was his best friend, for Merlin's sake.

"George!" she exclaimed, rushing over to hug him. "I am so glad you're home. Fred said you'd be here soon but I just got so nervous I couldn't wait to change—"

"Slow down, Katie," he said, laughing. "Change for what?"

"My date tonight," Katie said breathlessly.

George felt an odd sensation then. It was almost as if his heart had dropped into his stomach. "You have a date?"

Katie rolled her eyes. "Don't sound so surprised, George. I may spend a lot of time with you and Fred but I do alright in the dating department."

"Yeah?" George hoped that he didn't sound too interested. "You haven't mentioned any other dates recently."

"Well, this is my first in a while," his friend admitted. She cleared her throat. "Do I, erm, look alright?"

George thought for a moment. If he was being fully honest, she looked absolutely stunning, but that didn't seem like the right thing to say in this situation. "You look...very nice," he managed.

He watched as Katie's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Thanks. The dress was Angie's idea. You don't think it's too much?"

"If you give the poor bloke a heart attack, I guess you'll know, eh?" George joked.

Katie smacked his arm lightly. "Shut up."

"Who is this guy, anyway, Katie?" he asked. He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Anyone I know?"

"No," Katie replied, and George felt inexplicable relief wash over him. "He's just a bloke I met at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I see." George kept his tone light, but inwardly, he was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions spurred by the realization that he fancied his best friend. Just his luck, really.

Katie pulled a pair of heels out of her purse and eyed them dubiously. "Think I'll be able to manage in heels?"

"Dunno," George muttered. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tried to quell the turmoil in his mind. Katie didn't seem to notice as she pulled on the shoes and got shakily to her feet.

"There!" she announced, sounding unabashedly triumphant.

George glanced at her and offered a quick smile. "Great."

Now Katie held her wand and a small compact in her hands. "Angie thought maybe a bit of makeup would do me some good, but I was never good at those sorts of spells..."

George knew very little about makeup, aside from the joke types he and Fred stocked at the shop, so he merely shrugged. "Couldn't you ask Angie for help?"

Katie shook her head. "She's got Quidditch practice. And Alicia's off somewhere with the latest bloke she's been shagging. You're all I've got."

"Well, I'm not sure I'll be much help in the makeup department," George said.

Katie let out a giggle. "No, I know. I just...I just really appreciate you letting me get ready here."

"Right." George looked on as she tapped her wand to her face and added some color to her lips and eyelids.

"I guess that will do," she said, tucking her wand and compact back into her purse before glancing at the clock on the wall. "Oh, would you look at the time—"

"Katie, wait," George said suddenly. He rocked back on his heels and took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Don't go on that date."

Katie frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't think you know enough about him," was George's evasive reply. Seeing that she didn't look convinced, he reluctantly added, "And because...because it will kill me if you do."

His best friend stared at him. "Why would it—"

"Because you're my best friend, Katie," he said, his tone earnest. "You're my best friend, and you're also more than that. You're the only person outside of my family that knows me beyond 'the funny bloke.' You _get_ me, and I enjoy spending time with you. All this time we've been friends, but we could have been so much more."

To his surprise, Katie burst out laughing. "Oh, well done, George. You almost had me!"

"No, I'm not joking—"

"Always the prankster—"

"Katie, listen to me," George pleaded. "I'm not having you on, I'm serious!"

Katie's smile faltered. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I do." George stepped closer and took her hands in his. His eyes scanned hers, willing her to believe him. "I should've—I know my timing's lousy—"

"Yeah, it is," Katie huffed. "I wish you had said something sooner!"

George cocked his head at her. "Why?"

"Because you're more than a best friend to me too," Katie said softly.

George grinned at her. He felt like a loon, but he didn't care. Several moments passed as the two of them looked into each other's eyes.

"Uh, George?" Katie said at last.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think you should kiss me or something?"

"Oh, right." George leaned forward, cupped her face in his hands, and did just that.


	42. RonPansy

_Warning for language and mature themes (infidelity & sex, basically)._

_Written for a prompt in the WWW Facebook group: "This wasn't supposed to happen."/"Don't leave. Don't you dare fucking leave."/"I'm sorry. You deserve so much better."_

_Word count: 546_

* * *

**you lie on my sheets, then lie to my face**

The sex had been particularly mind-blowing that last time.

Pansy looked over at Ron and sighed happily. "That was good, wasn't it?" she asked, circling her thumb over his cheek.

Ron merely continued to stare up at the ceiling, his face an unreadable mask. "Yeah, fine," he eventually replied.

Pansy wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but he seemed to angle himself ever so slightly away from her.

She propped herself up on her elbow. "'Fine'?" she repeated, frowning. "That's all you have to say?" She leaned over to let her breasts brush tantalizingly against his chest. "You're usually a bit more..._flattering_, Ron."

"I've got a lot going on at work," Ron said, finally looking over at her. "Sorry."

"It's alright." She leaned down to kiss him. "Wanna talk about it?" Ron rolled out from under her and began to sit up. She pouted. "Guess that's a no, then."

The redhead yanked his boxers on before looking around for his robes. Pansy pointed wordlessly to the spot on the floor where he had thrown them in the throes of passion—passion that was apparently long gone now—and watched as he dressed himself.

"Will I be hearing from you again soon?" She hated how insecure she sounded. Hated how she seemed to need him more than he needed her.

Ron paused—or froze, maybe—in the act of fixing his tousled hair. "Dunno," he said with a shrug. "Maybe."

Pansy bit her lip. That wasn't the resounding "Yes!" that she had been hoping for.

Now dressed, her lover came over and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "I—I just remembered something I have to do for work. I know this—our time together—wasn't supposed to happen this way, but I have to go."

Pansy could tell he was lying by the way that he scratched behind his ear—it was a nervous habit of his. Sudden ire burned inside her like a flame, red-hot and destructive. She shoved the sheets aside and stood, not caring about her state of undress. "Don't leave. Don't you dare fucking leave like this, Ron Weasley."

"I thought you knew the rules we were playing by." Ron shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. At least he had the decency to look ashamed, Pansy thought. "I've got a life outside of you, Pansy. I know you don't like it, but—"

"I fucking hate it!" she snapped, then, softer, "I hate that you aren't all mine."

"I'm sorry," Ron said quietly, not meeting her gaze. "You deserve so much better."

Pansy blinked back the tears that rushed to her eyes. "Just go, then," she said hotly.

Ron took a step towards her, arms stretched out in a gesture that she supposed was meant to be placating. "Pans—"

"Go!" she snarled. "And don't fucking bother to come back."

He reached the hotel room door in three strides. Turning back towards the bed, he cleared his throat and said, "Goodbye, Pansy."

She didn't bother to dignify that with a response, too afraid of letting her angry façade crack, exposing the vulnerability beneath.

As soon as she heard the door click shut, she sank back onto the bed, buried her face in the covers, and sobbed.

Was she ever going to be anyone's first choice?


	43. KatieAngelina

**A Girl Worth Fighting For**

"Fred likes you, Angie," Katie insisted. "I think he's probably going to ask you to the Yule Ball."

Angelina shrugged. "Let him ask. I'll turn him down."

"You will?" Katie bit her lip.

"Of course," Angelina said, wrapping an arm around the other girl. "I'm taken, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but Fred doesn't know that," Katie fretted. "Neither does anyone else, for that matter, because you insist on keeping this relationship a secret!"

Angelina sighed and pressed a kiss to her girlfriend's temple. "You know why I have to do that, Katie."

"Look, I get it," Katie said, "but do you really think anyone from Hogwarts it's going to let it slip to your parents that you're dating me?"

"You just can't trust anyone," Angelina said darkly. "Trust me, it's better this way."

...

"Oi! Angelina!" Fred's voice cut through the din of the common room with ease.

Angelina rolled her eyes and muttered, "Can he not just walk over here like a normal person?" before calling back, "What?"

"Want to go to the ball with me?"

Angelina looked him over. As far as dates went, he wouldn't be so bad. Better him than, say, Adrian Pucey, who had taken to leering at her more than usual in the corridors. And at least if anyone else decided to ask her, she could say she was already going with someone.

"All right, then," she told Fred before turning back to Alicia.

Alicia nudged her. "What's the grin about? Won't Katie be...you know, a bit upset?"

"Katie knows we can't go together," Angelina said, pulling Alicia's Potions essay back towards her in an attempt to ward off the growing guilt she was feeling. "She understands."

...

"Alicia told me that Fred asked you to the ball and you said yes," Katie said angrily. "What happened to turning him down, Angie?"

"Shhh!" Angelina looked around frantically. The empty Transfiguration classroom amplified their voices more than she had expected it to. "Do you want people to hear you?"

"I don't care if people hear me! _You're_ the one who seems to have a problem with people hearing me!" Katie shouted.

"I'm sorry, Katie," she whispered. "It's just...since I couldn't go with you, I figured I'd go with Fred for a laugh. I'm sure someone will ask you, too."

"I don't want anyone else to ask me," Katie said defiantly. "I want to go with my _girlfriend_, not some guy who thinks he'll get lucky."

"Maybe you and Alicia could—" Angelina began.

Katie snorted and crossed her arms. "Alicia wants to go with George. I'm not about to make her go with me out of pity."

"Then don't go," Angelina snapped. She grimaced and shot her girlfriend a contrite look. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No, I think you did," Katie said softly, blinking back tears. Angelina tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. "See you at dinner."

...

Katie wasn't at dinner, and Angelina was worried. "Did she say anything to you?" she asked Alicia, pushing a piece of chicken around on her plate.

"Aside from some cryptic comment about hating you, no," Alicia replied. She tilted her head. "Is everything alright with you two?"

"No," Angelina sighed, setting down her fork. "She's... she's not happy that Fred and I are going to the Yule Ball together."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Can you blame her?"

"No." Angelina sighed again. "I know I shouldn't be so worried about making our relationship public, but I am."

"It's a scary step to take, for sure," Alicia said bracingly, "but just think of how much happier you'll be. How much happier _Katie_ will be. You want her to be happy, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Angelina said, stung. "But it isn't that easy."

"Of course it is." Alicia took a bite of chicken and contemplated Angelina as she chewed. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah, I do," Angelina admitted.

"Then you owe it to her to make this right," Alicia said simply.

Angelina let out a soft groan. "Why do you always have to be right?"

...

"I'm not talking to you," Katie said, her voice muffled by the crimson covers she was busy hiding under.

Angelina sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "You'd be well within your rights not to. I've been acting really stupid."

"Well, I'm glad you've finally noticed," was the other girl's sarcastic reply.

"I guess I just got swept up in the moment," Angelina said quietly. "That was very wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

A moment later, Katie's brown eyes appeared over the edge of the duvet. "What was that last part?"

"I'm sorry," Angelina repeated, trying to inject as much sincerity into her voice as she possibly could. "There's no one I'd rather go to the ball with than you, Katie Bell."

Katie threw the covers off, revealing a radiant smile that made Angelina's stomach turn over. "Really?"

"Really," Angelina confirmed. "And, um, maybe it's time we told everyone about us. That is, if you still want to be with me."

"Of course I still want to be with you, Angie. You're not getting rid of me that easily, you know," Katie teased.

Angelina laughed and pulled her girlfriend in for a kiss. She was very glad that Katie wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Word count: 884


	44. ColinAstoria

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges & Assignments - Term 13, Assignment 5: __**Muggle Art, Task #3: write about a portrait or the creation of one.**_

_Title comes from a Raphael painting, "Portrait of a Young Man." Also, this is a companion piece of sorts to a story that is currently only posted on my AO3 (called "On the Eve of a New Year"), in case you can't get enough painter!Astoria. _

_Word count: 801_

* * *

**Portrait of a Young (Gryffindor) Man**

"Sit _still_, Colin!" Astoria said, admonishing her fidgety subject. He made a silly face at her instead, leading her to roll her eyes and set down her paintbrush. "Seriously. How am I supposed to paint you if you keep moving?"

"How am I supposed to sit still when you've got a great big glob of paint on your nose?" Colin countered, his tone playful.

Astoria gasped and instinctively put her hands up to cover her face. "I do _not_ have paint on my nose!"

"Do too," Colin smirked, reaching for his wand. "I can fix it, though, if you'll let me."

"Not a chance!" Astoria hastily grabbed her own wand and banished the offending splatter—she hoped. "Better?"

Colin gazed at her for a moment. Though his face appeared solemn, Astoria could see that his brown eyes were twinkling. "I miss the paint. It was a definite improvement, I'd say."

"Oh, be quiet," Astoria giggled, picking up her brush once more.

She would never admit it, but she was glad that Colin had asked her to paint a portrait of him. Spending time with him felt like a breath of fresh air—welcome and refreshing. She especially liked that he teased her freely and without fear. It made her feel special, somehow.

It was just a shame that she could never introduce him to her parents.

"Tori?" Colin's voice cut into her thoughts, and the nickname made her smile.

"Hmm?" She squinted at him, then dragged a little more paint across the canvas. Once she finished outlining his head and the top of his shoulders, she could begin filling in those shapes with some peach-colored paint.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Oh, I was trying to figure out how I was going to mix the right color for your hair," Astoria lied. "Why?"

"You just looked so... peaceful," Colin replied. "I love watching you paint."

She tried to fight it, but a little bit of pink crept into her cheeks at those words.

...

Colin managed to remain in the same position for nearly a quarter of an hour, and Astoria took full advantage of that by sketching in some more details: the placement of his ears, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips. She lingered over his mouth for longer than was probably necessary, but she told herself that it was only because she wanted to get the lines just right.

"How's it look?" Colin asked.

Astoria shot him an annoyed look. "Mouth closed, please. I'm almost done with this part, and then you can talk."

Colin made a humming noise that she took to mean, "Alright."

After a few quick brush strokes, she smiled triumphantly. "Done. You can talk now, but I need you to otherwise stay still or I won't be able to capture the shadows on your face."

"Fine," Colin said, letting out an exaggerated—Astoria hoped—sigh.

"Are you getting sick of me already?" she teased.

"Of you? Never," Colin declared. "I am, however, sick of sitting on this little stool you've got me on. My bum hurts."

Astoria bit her lip to keep from giggling aloud. "Sorry. I know it's uncomfortable, but if it were a cozy armchair or something, you'd fall right to sleep."

Colin laughed, and Astoria couldn't help but laugh along with him. Something about the sound was infectious, and she wished that she could hear it more often. Unfortunately, he was a Gryffindor, and a Muggle-born at that. She just had to make the most of their clandestine meetings.

...

"I think that's enough for today," Astoria said reluctantly, sitting back to survey her work.

Over an hour had passed and the sun had shifted overhead, which meant that the shadows she had so painstakingly captured on Colin's painted face no longer fell in the same places on Colin's actual face. Astoria still needed to fill in a few details, but she figured that could wait until tomorrow.

Colin stood and stretched. "May I see what you've done so far?"

"I'd rather you didn't—" Astoria began, but the Gryffindor had already bounded over. "Oh, Colin, it probably looks awful. I'm not done yet—"

"Wow, I can't wait to show Dennis!" he said excitedly. "It looks amazing!"

Astoria blinked. "You think so?"

"Are you kidding?" Colin leaned in to peer more closely at the portrait. "Your attention to detail is so impressive, Tori. You even got that little freckle on my nose!"

Astoria could feel warmth rising to her cheeks again, though whether that was due to Colin's compliment or his proximity, she didn't know. "Thanks, Colin." Not wanting to seem too eager, she paused before asking, "Does the same time tomorrow work for you?"

He grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

For the chance to spend more time with Colin, Astoria wouldn't either.


	45. CormacHermione

_I actually wrote and published (on AO3) this piece last December and realized I never posted it here. It was part of a Secret Santa exchange, and my prompts were Cormac/Hermione, coworkers, and "Say something. Anything."_

* * *

**A Present for Cormac**

"Hey, Hermione, drinks tonight?" Cormac asked, poking his head around the door to Hermione's office.

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes. "You ask me that every Friday, Cormac, and my answer is _always _—"

"'No, thank you,'" Cormac finished, smiling goodnaturedly at her. "I know, I know. You don't go out with coworkers."

"Correct." Hermione turned back to the neatly organized stacks of parchment on her desk. "If you'll excuse me..."

As soon as she heard the door close, she stared down at the first sheaf of parchment her eyes fell on. It was labeled "Christmas Gifts," and below it she had carefully written down the names of all of her coworkers. Most of the names had gift ideas next to them, but the space next to 'Cormac' was blank.

She sighed. What could she give him?

...

"How should I know what McLaggen likes?" Ron said impatiently. "I can't say I go out of my way to make conversation with the bloke."

"I know," Hermione said, "but I just thought maybe you'd heard him mention something about enjoying a certain restaurant or going to a game—hang on, Quidditch! He likes Quidditch, right?"

Ron shrugged. "He went out for the Gryffindor team, I suppose he must've liked it a bit."

Hermione began to pace. "I don't know his favorite team, though," she fretted. "And tickets can be ever so expensive—"

"It's just a Christmas present, Hermione, don't think so hard," Ron said in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. "Just find a cheap ticket for a match, any match. It's the thought that counts, right?"

Hermione stopped pacing to stare at him. "_ It's the thought that counts? _" she echoed, shaking her head. "Ron, I can't just give him any old ticket. If he sees that I put effort into everyone else's presents and not his, it's going to send a bad message!"

"Ask him, then?" Ron asked, looking put out. "I'm sure you can figure out a way to casually ask him what his favorite team is."

Hermione's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Yes, I think I can manage that."

...

"Good morning, Cormac!" Hermione said brightly, unwinding her scarf in the doorway to his office. "I'm really glad I caught you, I've got this...problem, and I was hoping you might be able to help me."

Cormac leaned forward in his desk chair. "Go on."

"I've got these, um, Quidditch tickets, and I was hoping you might know someone I could give them to. I can't go to the match myself, you see..."

"Are they for Puddlemere?" Cormac asked hopefully.

"No," Hermione said quickly. "Are they your favorite team, though? Because if I ever get my hands on Puddlemere tickets, I'd be happy to pass them on to you...if I couldn't make it myself, that is!" She forced out a laugh that sounded about as unnatural as it possibly could have, and cringed inwardly.

Thankfully, Cormac didn't seem to notice. He was too busy nodding. "Yeah, I love Puddlemere. They're top-notch."

Hermione clutched her scarf to her chest and flashed him a grin. "Great. I completely agree. Thanks for your help!"

With that, she hurried away, missing the odd look on Cormac's face. As soon as she entered her own office, she let out a quiet, "Yes!" Cormac's gift was settled. Now she just had to find a way to get her hands on a cheap ticket or two...

...

Cormac stared wordlessly down at the pair of gold tickets in his hand.

"Cormac? Say something. Anything," Hermione pleaded. He wasn't even pretending to be excited. Perhaps he was in shock?

He cleared his throat. "Puddlemere United tickets... how'd you swing these?"

She gave him a coy smile. "I have my ways." Or rather, Ginny did, but Hermione wasn't about to mention that.

"Well, thanks," Cormac grinned. "I can't say I'm surprised, though."

Hermione felt her jaw drop. "You're not?"

"Nah. You kind of gave it away when you asked me about those supposed Quidditch tickets you had," he replied.

"Wait, you knew I was pretending?" Hermione's shoulders slumped slightly.

"Well, yeah," he said with a laugh. "Come on, Hermione, you've made no secret about hating Quidditch."

"I don't _hate _it—" she began hotly.

"Then maybe you'd like to come with?" His brown eyes were full of hope.

"—think it's completely barbaric—wait, what did you just say?"

"Would you like to come with me?" Cormac asked again.

"Oh." Hermione blushed slightly. "That would be a date, wouldn't it?"

"It wouldn't have to be," he said hastily.

Hermione laughed. "Well, as long as you don't mind me talking your ear off about the dangers of the sport…"

Cormac grinned widely at her, and she found that she couldn't look away. "I definitely wouldn't mind that."


End file.
